


A Series of Lists (Extras)

by katrinawritesthings



Series: Biker au [2]
Category: SHINee
Genre: Angst, Aromantic, Asexual, Brotp, Fluff, M/M, NB, Nonbinary, Pansexual, Parent Death, Parent-Child Relationship, Past Child Abuse, Polyamory, Smut, Trans, taemplants
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-06
Updated: 2018-04-13
Packaged: 2018-10-20 08:01:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 59,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10658334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katrinawritesthings/pseuds/katrinawritesthings
Summary: This au is just,,, rly rly long,,, and i may or may not have everyone's entire lives planned out and detailed,,, so here u go





	1. Six times there was a road trip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taemin leans even more of his weight on Jinki until they almost fall over in the booth. Jinki shoots him an annoyed glare, pushes on his chest, and sits up straight to survey Jonghyun over his glasses again. Taemin leans right back up against his arm. Too much is at stake for him to not be half an inch away from Jinki as he makes his decision.

****1  
“Jinki.”

“Hmm?”

“Jinki.”

“Yes?”

_“Jinkiii.”_

_“What?”_

“Can I have the rest of your bacon?” Taemin slips his arm under Jinki’s to link them together and pokes at the edge of his plate where three pieces of bacon are left over from breakfast. Jinki might be annoyed at him for making him look away from his newspaper, but at least he won’t be mad at him later for eating all of his bacon without making sure it was okay. Jinki looks at him for a moment. Then he takes one of the pieces for himself.

“You can have the other two,” he says before he returns to his reading. Aha. Taemin knew it. He eats both of them probably too quickly, then wiggles closer to Jinki and rests his head on his shoulder. He’s still so tired.

“Uh, excuse me?” Jonghyun’s soft voice announces his presence at their table. Taemin greets him with a soft smile that Jonghyun returns quickly. He’s not in his usual waiter outfit and Taemin vaguely remembers that it was that TIffany girl that brought their food out earlier, not Jonghyun. This is kind of weird, he thinks. “Um--Jinki?” Jonghyun asks. Taemin thinks that this is even weirder. Jinki does too, if the look he gives Taemin means anything. Taemin shrugs.

“Yes?” Jinki says to Jonghyun. Shoulders rising and falling with a deep, almost shaky breath, Jonghyun glances quickly at Taemin. His fingers are curling into the hem of his shirt; Taemin hasn’t seen him this anxious since their first few meetings. He tries his best to look as reassuring as possible when he doesn’t even know what Jonghyun is so worried about. Jonghyun looks minutely heartened by it and opens his mouth to speak.

“Um,” he says, “My sister is making--is giving--me a few, uh, two, weeks off. Of work. And, um…. I was wondering, if um… well, I know that you never really come back so soon--but I was hoping, just once, uh, or, I mean….” His face is pinker than it’s ever been. Taemin can barely understand him with how badly he’s stammering and fumbling his words; he wonders if he should get up and kind of snuggle him through this. He has to admit, though, that the way Jonghyun just keeps plowing through this is kind of impressive. A few years ago he would’ve just stopped and gone silent. He bets the poor kid rehearsed this before he came to ask too, and now he’s fucking it up anyway. At least Jinki is good at this kind of stuff; he’ll probably figure out what Jonghyun means, because Taemin doesn’t have the slightest clue.

“Like, it’s just, if it was okay, and like--if it--uh, if it fit into your, um, schedule, and if it wasn’t uh, a bother, I wanted to--just--”

“You want to go on a road trip with us.” Jinki says it simply; so simply that Taemin frowns and squints between the two of them for a few moments before he fully understands. A road trip. A _road trip_. As in, a trip on the road. With them. For two weeks. Jonghyun, riding with him,  on the road, with the rest of the group, for half of a month.

“If--if that’s okay,” Jonghyun stammers quickly. If that’s--Taemin whips his head to face Jinki so quickly he almost cracks his neck, leaning all of his weight against him to let him know without words that it absolutely _has_ to be okay. Jinki ignores him, but Taemin knows that he is well aware of the holes being stared into his cheek.

“You know that it’s loud and crowded and dangerous and not nearly as great as you’ve romanticized it out to be, right?” he asks. Jonghyun nods quickly, fingers wrinkling the hem of his shirt in his nervousness.

“I know, I know,” he says. “I know it’s not--and I don’t want to go for the whole--and I know it would be really inconvenient, but I still want… can I?”

 _Can he_? Never before in his life has Taemin heard a more important question. He leans even more of his weight on Jinki until they almost fall over in the booth. Jinki shoots him an annoyed glare, pushes on his chest, and sits up straight to survey Jonghyun over his glasses again. Taemin leans right back up against his arm. Too much is at stake for him to not be half an inch away from Jinki as he makes his decision. Jinki’s finger plays with the corner of his newspaper as he takes what feels like the longest time he’s ever taken to think about anything. Finally, when Taemin is about to flat out sit on him with intensity and Jonghyun is about to shake himself to pieces, Jinki opens his mouth.

“How soon can you be ready to go?”

Holy shit.

“Is that a yes?” Jonghyun asks, and _holy fucking shit_. Taemin barely even registers the flow of thanks and gratitude that spills from Jonghyun’s lips because he’s too busy trying to both wrap himself around Jinki and fit himself in his lap at the same time.

 _“You are the best person to ever exist on this planet_ ,” he hisses.

“Thank--oh, my god, fuck, I’m--I promise I’ll help and-- _thank you_ \--and I won’t be--be a bother, and-- _fuck_ , thank you so much, fuck--I’ll pay for--oh my _fucking god-_ -”

Over his own aggressive thankful nuzzling, Taemin hears Jinki heave a deep sigh.

 

2  
It takes Jonghyun at least three times to realize that Jinki it trying to speak to him--or, he thinks so, anyway. His ears feel muffled. He knew it was going to be louder than he expected, but knowing something and experiencing it are two very different things. Taemin’s gonna have to mumble a little louder than usual for the rest of the day if he wants to actually talk about anything, that’s for sure. Even now, idling with the group at the back of a longue queue to get off of the highway, the low rumbling of ten bikes is almost overwhelming. He shakes the daze out of his mind and readjusts himself to get more comfortable behind Jinki.

“What?” he asks, leaning a little bit to see Jinki clearer as he turns to raise an eyebrow at Jonghyun over his shoulder. He pushes his visor up and asks again:

“Are you okay?”

Oh. Jonghyun feels like he could have figured that out on his own.

“I'm….” He feels like his hearing is at half capacity. His body feels numb from a half an hour straight of vibration. Jinki’s shoulders and bike are both wider than Taemin’s and he’s uncomfortable, not used to the positioning. His helmet is getting gross and stuffy after so long wearing it. He wishes Taemin could have worked his way over to the lane next to theirs instead of two over. He’s still worried about leaving his sister and the motel alone for over a week and about how he doesn’t remember half of the names of the other bikers in the gang. He’s… “Fucking fantastic,” he breathes.

Fuck all of that negative shit; it’s there, definitely, but it’s taking the back seat while adrenaline and excitement are sharing shotgun for once. It’s a list of minor inconveniences. This is what he’s wanted his whole life; this is him, on the road in a biker gang, almost farther away from home than he’s ever been, not even knowing where he’s going, with a hot babe of a boyfriend ready to be possessive and grabby on him when they next stop because he’s still grumpy about Jinki not letting Jonghyun ride with him on his bike yet.

Jonghyun’s not going to say anything to Taemin about it, but he does feel safer about riding on the highway for the first time with Jinki instead of him. With a short burst of laughter, Jinki spurs them forward up the ramp.

“We’re gonna stop for brunch in this town,” he says, pointing at the stoplights blinking up top. Jonghyun nods. Brunch sounds good.

“Okay,” he calls back. Jinki gives him a thumbs up, then taps his visor back down and faces front again. Jonghyun shifts to get comfortable again and leans back a little bit to try to see across the lanes and find Taemin. He finds the mint accented bike easily, and just in time for him to catch Taemin pulling off his helmet. Oh. Nice. He curls his fingers into Jinki’s shirt as Taemin fluffs his fingers through his hair, looking about as bored as Jonghyun would expect him to be in traffic. Taemin’s finger gets stuck in a knot; Jonghyun watches, amused, as he wiggles his hand away and sweeps his bangs out of his face before quickly turning to stuff the helmet into his bag like nothing happened.

He’s been watching Taemin for at least half of the time on the road. The scenery is nice yeah, the flat meadows around his hometown turning into rolling hills, but he’s seen all of it before. He’s never seen Taemin ride like this. All these years, he’s either watched him drive away or been with him on the bike. This point of view is remarkably different. On the road, riding on his own, Taemin is steady, precise, relaxed, and practically expert in the way he steers his bike. It’s such a high contrast to see Taemin completely at ease on a crowded highway compared to the lonely road between the motel and the town. Jonghyun isn’t surprised that he knows what he’s doing, but it’s still fascinating to watch him as he grows impatient at the end of the queue and weaves a few cars ahead between the lanes.

It’s fascinating, and also really hot, and all of the time that he hasn’t been watching Taemin has been spent pointedly focusing on the road so he doesn’t pop a boner behind Jinki. They’re going to stop soon and get something to eat; hopefully Taemin will be a slouchy, sleepy nerd like usual again and Jonghyun’s dick will calm down.

 

3  
“Hmm… Minari?” Taemin turns to his friend after a solid minute of staring at the directory in between the ice cream shop and the donut shop. Jonghyun jostles his arm as he moves to peep around him at Minhwan also. On the bench next to him, Minhwan looks up from his ice cream with a questioning hum. Taemin pouts at him. “Isn’t this the place with the cool music shop?” he asks. He’s sure that it is, but he can’t find it on this map of the outdoor mall.

“No, that’s at the outdoor mall on the other side of my place.” Minhwan flaps a hand in a general eastward direction and Taemin groans. He always mixes up their directions like this.

“Fuck. Sorry,” he mumbles, turning back to Jonghyun. He was really excited to show him the music shop. Jonghyun lifts up to his tiptoes to press a little kiss to Taemin’s cheek.

“Don’t worry about it,” he says as Taemin only fights his smile down a little bit. His cheek kind of tingles. “I don’t think we really have time, anyway.”

“What?” Taemin pushes his sleeve back to squint at his watch. It’s not even noon. “We have plenty of time,” he says, confused. Jonghyun blinks back at him, just as puzzled.

“But I thought we were leaving soon,” he says. “Jinki said we were just coming here for brunch, and, I mean… we finished our brunch.” He gestures towards the donut shop where the two of them did just share a nice meal together. “Isn’t like… everyone else going to meet up when they’re done? So we can leave?”

 _“Ohh.”_ Jonghyun just misunderstood, that’s all. That’s cute. Taemin turns back to the directory to look it over. “Well, no,” he says. “We didn’t come to an outdoor mall just to eat. We’re gonna hang around for a little while, you know?” He shrugs as he tries to figure out which way the furniture store is. He wants to show Jonghyun the cool pillows. “We’ll have lunch here, too. Maybe dinner.” He hums slowly in thought. “Depends on where we’re staying the night.” If they’re going to the closest motel, they’re definitely getting something here. The fries at that place are soggy as fuck. It’s disgusting. He finds the furniture store on the map, then tugs on Jonghyun’s elbow and reaches for Minhwan’s wrist to get them to follow. The smoothie place is right next door to it, so maybe they’ll add Amber to their little group also.

“Where we’re staying the night?” Jonghyun asks, stumbling a little bit at Taemin’s sudden pull. Taemin loosens his hold guiltily.

“Yeah,” he says. He holds his hand out in front of Minhwan; Minhwan drops a cold, slightly sticky mini oreo into it from his ice cream. “Before we get to Minari’s place,” he continues, popping the cookie into his mouth.

“It’s my band’s place, actually,” Minhwan corrects, and Taemin rolls his eyes. Whatever. It’s one-fifth of his place. Same thing. Jonghyun tugs his arm away from Taemin’s. Before Taemin can pout about it, he slips behind him and fits himself into the middle of their trio instead and relinks their arms.

“I thought it was only another hour or two away?” he asks Minhwan. Taemin kind of misses the first half of Minhwan’s reply because he’s busy trying to adjust to the feeling of Jonghyun being on his left instead of his right so suddenly. He feels weird and unbalanced and it makes him frown as he rubs over Jonghyun’s forearm with his free hand. Tracing one of the veins of Jonghyun’s forearm with his finger, he scrunches his nose. It’s kind of creepy. Veins. Bluh. He shakes his head and tries to focus back on their conversation.

“...after breakfast and get there sometime after noon, probably,” Minhwan is saying. Jonghyun’s pout is even more confused than ever.

“Why don’t we just go all the way there today?” he asks. Taemin scoffs.

“You don’t just ride for two hours straight,” he says, leaning against Jonghyun’s head and mumbling against his temple. “That’s no fun.” It’s numbing and boring and makes his hands hurt.

“But isn’t it faster?”

“Dude,” Minhwan tsks, shaking his head. “Didn’t you ever see Cars?”

“The kids movie?” Jonghyun asks. “Yeah, why?”

“Because that’s the _point_ ,” Minhwan says. Taemin nods, linking their fingers together before lifting their hands to explain.

“You don’t drive to get from point A to point B,” he explains. “It’s about the experience.” He waves their hands lazily together in the air, wiggling his fingers. It’s about taking your time, rolling under lines of trees on lonely roads, memorizing the backstreets of a hundred little towns, finding a cute motel boyfriend to return to every few months. He pokes Jonghyun’s hand as he wiggles his fingers; Jonghyun wiggles with him with a little laugh before Minhwan adds on to Taemin’s point.

“Yeah, like, if there’s a beach between one place and another, why _wouldn’t_ you spend a few days at the beach before you go on?”

“Well, I mean….” Jonghyun takes a moment to think. “I guess,” he mumbles. “And being on the road so much would be way more expensive, too, and… would get kind of boring….” He trails off into little mutters, rationalizing their explanations further to himself. Taemin hums a fond little sigh at him, unlacing their fingers and slinging his arm around Jonghyun’s shoulders instead so he can lean more of his weight on him. He’ll figure it out eventually.

 

4  
Jonghyun sits at the foot of the bed, one hand on the zipper of his bag. He runs the other through his hair, stands up, and looks around the room. He moves to fix a packet of tissues straight on the dresser, then clicks a lamp through its three brightness settings. Slipping to the bathroom door, he peeps inside and rustles the little soaps on the counter. When he’s done with that he wanders back into the main room and sits on the bed again, picking up the little brochure next to the clock and flipping through it slowly.

Taemin watches him do all of this from where he’s laid out on the pillows, sleepy and amused and just a tiny bit worried.

“You okay, kid?” he asks quietly. He knows that Jonghyun is still anxious about this trip despite all of his excitement. Maybe he’s uncomfortable in a new environment, or maybe he’s homesick already. He did spend almost an hour on the phone with his sister earlier. At his question, Jonghyun looks up with a thoughtful hum.

“Yeah, I’m just… thinking,” he mumbles. “So this is what it’s like.”

“What what’s like?”

“Staying at a motel.” Jonghyun shrugs and puts the paper back down onto the bedside table. Taemin grunts in understanding. Oh. That’s kind of cute. He rolls to his side so he can fit an arm around Jonghyun’s leg and nuzzle his thigh.

“It’s a nice place,” he mumbles. Dinner here made him sleepier than usual, like it always does. He feels like he should be reflecting on Jonghyun’s very first day travelling with them or something instead of falling asleep on his leg. He’s too tired for that now, though. Maybe tomorrow.

“My place is better, though, right?” Jonghyun asks. His fingers sift gently through Taemin’s hair, pushing it out of his face. Taemin appreciates the gesture, even if he doesn’t exactly appreciate the noise. “Because their mirror isn’t even clean and I totally could have made the bed look nicer and their tissues are a shitty rough knockoff brand.” Jonghyun sounds defensive, almost jealous, and superior, and it makes Taemin’s lips quirk up. Of course he would compare his work to the first new motel he sets foot in.

“Yours is my favorite,” he mumbles into Jonghyun’s leg. And that’s not just because Jonghyun works there; it’s always really clean and the food is better and the employees are nicer. If they were any bigger, Taemin is sure that they could be a pretty nice hotel, even. Jonghyun makes his little happy noise before he turns off their lamp and wiggles all the way down under the covers and on top of Taemin.

“Thanks,” he smiles against Taemin’s neck. Taemin just hums in reply, hooking his leg around Jonghyun’s thigh and kissing his temple.

 

5  
“Mmgh….”

“Hmm?”

“Nnh.”

“Mmm.”

Taemin turns around before Jonghyun can hum a third time, nudging his arms off of his shoulders. Jonghyun wraps them around his waist instead because he doesn’t want to let go of him so soon. All morning he’s been latched onto Taemin, following him around as he prepared them breakfast from scratch. He’d mumbled on and on about how they’re probably leaving Minhwan’s place tomorrow and how today should be perfect and relaxing and how perfect days start with perfect breakfasts and how he’s never once cooked something for Jonghyun and he should because that’s what good boyfriends do, all while he was half falling asleep over the potatoes. Jonghyun had only asked what he was making.

Now, Taemin leaves his spatula next to the stove and squishes Jonghyun’s cheeks, lips puffed up in a little pout.

“Stop stealing my aesthetic,” he grumbles. “Incoherent humming is my thing. I don’t know what the fuck it means when you do it.” He pokes at Jonghyun’s bottom lip with a frown. Jonghyun nips gently at his finger with a soft laugh.

“It means I’m happy,” he says. He’s happy and relaxed. Minhwan’s place is nice; his bandmates are friendly, his couches are soft, it smells like nutty wood, and they woke up that morning to someone practising a sweet tune on a guitar. This place has such a nice feel to it that despite how he still worries about how his sister is doing without him, he wouldn’t mind staying here for an extra day or two. Plus, his heart is over the moon about how determined Taemin is to make sure that he has a good time. It’s made him all fuzzy inside. His little hums mean that he’s content enough right now that he’s too lazy to even say many words.

“Hmm…,” Taemin rubs his thumb over Jonghyun’s jawline as he thinks over his short explanation. It makes Jonghyun even happier, enough so that when he turns just slightly to nuzzle Taemin’s hand he almost purrs. After a moment, Taemin seems satisfied. “Well, good,” he says. “I want you... to… be....” he trails off with a shrug before he finishes his sentence. Jonghyun has gathered lately that when he does that, it means that if he had continued he would have blushed. It’s a new thing of his, being embarrassed to admit his affections now that he’s finally admitted that he’s in love. Jonghyun thinks it’s adorable, and he tugs him a tiny bit closer to press their mouths together.

With the hand he has on Jonghyun’s side, Taemin pulls him close enough that Jonghyun is pressing him against the counter. Before he gets lost in the softness of Taemin’s lips, Jonghyun lifts his arms back up around his neck. He considers for a moment telling Taemin that he loves him, then decides against it. He doesn’t feel like making him blush right now; not when it’ll make him miss out on valuable makeout time. Taemin knows anyway.

 

6  
Jonghyun hadn’t forgotten how much more comfortable it was to be behind Taemin instead of Jinki, but that doesn’t make him any less relieved to settle himself onto his bike. Four days after he got off of Jinki’s bike in front of Minhwan’s place and he swears that his legs are still kind of tingly. Their return trip has barely even started and already Jonghyun has decided that his favorite part is how Jinki has allowed Taemin to have him as his passenger. He wraps his arms more securely around Taemin’s middle with a contented sigh, trying not to lean his helmet-covered head too heavily against his back.

“You ready?” Taemin asks, looking over his shoulder. He taps his thumb on the start button twice before moving his hand in an invitation for Jonghyun to hit it like usual. Jonghyun squeezes Taemin once in agreement and then reaches over to hover over the button. Of course he is. He’s relaxed and Taemin has his full trust.

“Yeah.”

“No.”

“What?” Both of them look up when Jinki suddenly appears in front of the bike. He bats Jonghyun’s hand away from the start button; Jonghyun pouts. Why this? Jinki bats Taemin’s hand away from the other handle and grips both of them himself. Peeping over Taemin’s shoulder, Jonghyun almost shrivels at the stern look on Jinki’s face even though it’s focused solely on Taemin.

“Do not,” Jinki says slowly, holding Taemin’s gaze, “do not do _any_ of the things you’re thinking about doing with him on your bike. Don’t do it.”

“Oh my _god_ , Jinki.” Taemin slaps Jinki’s hands away from his bike with a huff. “I’m responsible. I’ve had him with me before.” Jonghyun nods. That is true.

“That was different,” Jinki frowns. “That was alone on an empty road. _This_ is with everyone else that you’re always trying to impress and on the highway.” He crosses his arms and Jonghyun nods again, a tiny little nod that Taemin probably feels just the same. That is also true. He still thinks about that time Taemin screeched a donut into the parking lot of the motel before Jinki smacked him upside up the head. Totally rad, but not something that Jonghyun really wants to be a part of.

“Ugh.” Taemin scowls. After a second, Jonghyun feels Taemin’s soft hand cover his on his stomach. “You know that I wouldn’t,” he snaps, “but fine.”

“Good,” Jinki says. He gives Taemin a last stern look before leaving for his own bike. Taemin huffs, sighs, and squeezes Jonghyun’s hand once before gripping his handlebar again. Jonghyun pouts guilty. He can’t exactly nuzzle Taemin or give him a little kiss of comfort with his helmet in the way, so he just squeezes him comfortingly.

“I trust you,” he says quietly. Taemin lets out a longer sigh than before.

“So does he,” he mumbles. “He just… worries.” He runs his fingers through his hair, fixes up his headband, and then takes Jonghyun’s hand in his and leads it to the start button again. Well. Jonghyun understands that also. Worry is his constant state of being. It’s usually with Taemin that his nerves settle down so much, and this little vacation was definitely enough to prove that. He rubs his thumb gently over Taemin’s before slipping it over to press the start button. As the bike rumbles to life in its usual way, Taemin turns a tiny fraction to look at Jonghyun over his shoulder.

“Not even a little wheelie?” he asks.

 _“No,_ ” Jonghyun says firmly, and across the street, he hears Jinki saying the same thing. He giggles as Taemin grumbles again and rolls them into the road.


	2. Five times Jonghyun was sick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jonghyun wakes up a second time this morning not because he has to cough his guts up, but because he’s slept for several hours longer than he usually does and he can’t make himself stay asleep any longer. At least the medicine Taemin made him take is working.

****1  
“Stop--stay _still_ , oh my god.”

“Taemin, I’m fine.”

“No you’re not, Jonghyun.” Taking Jonghyun’s weakly flailing wrist in a firm but gentle hand, Taemin shoves it back under the bed covers. Then he wipes his hand on his sweats just in case because Jonghyun is the exact opposite of “fine.” He’s fucking horrendous. There were a lot of ways that Taemin could have been up on this cold Tuesday morning, but Jonghyun coughing the most painful sounding coughs he has ever heard next to him was not one that he was expecting. Even as he tries to protest, Jonghyun starts coughing again. Taemin winces and hands him a tissue from the bedside table for him to catch all of his germs in.

“You better not get me sick,” he grumbles, tucking the ends of the bedcovers under the mattress so Jonghyun can’t move. “Last night you said you were getting better.” Like, what the fuck. Going from the occasional sniffle to _this_ is in no way _better_. He never would have agreed to let Jonghyun sleep with him if he’d known this was going to happen.

“I _was_ getting better,” Jonghyun pouts. “Let me up. I have to work.”

“No,” Taemin snaps, incredulous. He can’t believe Jonghyun actually just said that. He can’t believe that he actually wants to get up and go to work in the kitchen and at the front desk and in literally every room in the motel when he’s all gross and germy like this. That’s not even his overly taxing work ethic anymore; that’s just being an asshole. “Don’t be an asshole,” he tells Jonghyun firmly. “And don’t move. I’m gonna go tell your sister you’re taking the day off.”

“Taemin, nooo,” Jonghyun whines. He wiggles uselessly in the bedcovers while Taemin slouches outside and shuts the door behind him. He doesn’t even know what time it is. It’s probably like six in the morning or some bullshit. He rubs his hands over his face as he trudges down the stairs. Jonghyun is so fucking ridiculous sometimes. Like, Taemin might be a little biased since he spent so many years catching literally every sickness that passed through his school, but his point still stands that it’s just _rude_ for Jonghyun to try to keep working when he’s sick like this. It’s rude and inconsiderate and dangerous to his clients and… as Taemin’s annoyance fades out with his low energy, he supposes that it’s not that good for Jonghyun personally, either. There’s no way he can get better if he’s working himself into the ground.

The night shift girl is still at the front desk when Taemin shuffles into the lobby, but as he works his way there, Jonghyun’s sister comes out of the break room door. She’s holding a hot mug of coffee and rubbing her eye with a sleepy hand just like Jonghyun does. It makes Taemin’s lips twitch up by the time he gets close enough to lean up on the counter and wait for the two to finish their conversation. A glance at the clock behind the counter tells Taemin that it’s almost seven in the morning. Well, good. It’s not as early as he thought it was. He waits politely until the night shift girl goes into the break room and Jonghyun’s sister turns to notice him.

“Hi…,” fuck, he’s forgotten her name again. He squints at her nametag, all too aware of how obvious this fact is. “Sodam,” he says quickly. “Hi. Yes. Um.” Her quirked brow over her coffee is all too reminiscent of Jonghyun’s quietly amused little looks and he huffs. So what if he has a bad memory. At least he tries. “Jonghyun is sick,” he says bluntly, trying to cover up his blunder by just getting on with it. “Not dying or anything, but it’s… really gross,” he mumbles. He can still hear Jonghyun practically coughing up a lung next to him.

“Is he still trying to get up and work?” Sodam asks, sounding a different kind of tired, one that won’t be fixed by her coffee. Taemin nods with a sigh.

“I’m… I think I’m just going to take him to his room and make him sleep more.”

“Good, yes, please, thank you,” Sodam says. “It always takes me forever to get him to listen. You have a key, right?”

“Yeah, it’s….” Taemin pats his pockets, then realizes that he’s wearing his sweats and the key is in his bag somewhere upstairs. He just nods instead, bringing his other hand up to muffle a yawn. “Yeah,” he mumbles. “I’m gonna….” He gestures over his thumb to signify that he’s going to leave. He’s so fucking bad at saying goodbye. Sodam nods though, taking another tired sip of her coffee.

“I think his favorite scented candle is the Campfire one,” she says. “It helps him sleep sometimes. Thanks, boyfriend.” She gives him a little wave and Taemin waves back lazily in acknowledgement, already half turned around to shuffle back upstairs. Campfire, huh. Seems a little too smokey for him. It sounds like a warm enough smell, though, so he guesses it makes sense that it would help Jonghyun sleep. He’ll light it up and use it to bribe Jonghyun into relaxing.

He’s halfway up the stairs before he realizes that Sodam just called him “boyfriend” instead of his name. He stops and squints down at the corner of the front desk that he can still just barely see, suspicious. He honestly can not tell if she did that on purpose or not. He’s too tired for this shit.

 

2  
Jonghyun wakes up a second time this morning not because he has to cough his guts up, but because he’s slept for several hours longer than he usually does and he can’t make himself stay asleep any longer. At least the medicine Taemin made him take is working. He rolls over weakly in bed, flapping his hand around for his bottle of water. As he takes tiny little sips, he rubs his eyes with his free hand so he can blink his clock into focus. It’s a little bit passed eleven; he passed out for like, three hours. Ugh. His schedule is going to be so fucked up. And it’s almost time for lunch and he won’t be there to help.  And he’ll need to take more pills soon.

Lunch will be soon… and he hasn’t had breakfast. The water splooshes inside of his stomach and makes him all too aware of the fact that he is starving. He sits up groggily, breathing deeply while his nose is clear and he can actually smell his lovely campfire candle. He’s pretty sure that Sodam told Taemin to light that one specifically and he appreciates both of them for it. He doesn’t really remember much about the first time he woke up a few hours ago, but he does remember Taemin being less than tender as he tugged Jonghyun down the stairs and pushed him into the shower and then into bed. He feels like maybe he was being a little difficult.

Still, Taemin did take care to gently blow dry his hair so he wouldn’t go to sleep with a wet head. And he squinted at all of the little labels on Jonghyun’s medicine bottles to make sure he was taking the right ones, and bundled Jonghyun up nice and warm in bed, and made sure to put his candle somewhere where it couldn’t fall and set him on fire. He did all of this while half falling asleep, grumpy and groggy and clumsy, all before announcing his plan to go back to sleep for another few hours before getting up again to check on Jonghyun. Or, more specifically, “I’m gonna go crash on your couch for five years. I'll be back... when I wake up.”

He’d papped Jonghyun’s elbow as he said it, which Jonghyun took to mean that he was totally concerned and worried for his health instead of just annoyed at being up so early. He slouches out of bed and stands up on shaky legs. Breakfast sounds like a good idea. He’ll go upstairs and throw something together for the both of them, and then maybe spend the rest of the day curled up in Taemin’s lap. He blows his candle out before dragging himself to the door.

 

3  
Taemin is confused and a little disoriented when he wakes up. He’s on a couch; he could have sworn he was in a bed earlier. He was in a bed with Jonghyun, all snuggly and warm.  This couch smells like Jonghyun, though, and is the most comfortable couch he’s ever been on, so it must be his. So he’s on Jonghyun’s couch, without Jonghyun, instead of his own motel bed, with Jonghyun. Why the fuck.

He becomes aware of an obnoxious beeping coming from his wrist; pushing his hair out of his face with a groan, he squints at his watch. It’s almost eleven. Why the fuck would he set himself an alarm for eleven in the morning? He closes his eyes and nuzzles the couch cushions with a little sigh as he thinks. Eleven… Jonghyun’s couch… not with Jonghyun… because Jonghyun is in his room? ...And Taemin has to go see him at eleven… because…. Taemin frowns, a lump under his side making him uncomfortable. Reaching under himself to grab it, he pulls out a little pack of disinfectant tissues. He squints at them for a second, confused, before he remembers.

Jonghyun is sick as fuck and it’s really gross.

He pulls out a wipe and cleans his hands with it, just because, as he stands up. There’s no harm in having extra clean hands before he goes into to check on Jonghyun’s germy butt. There are two little bottles of pills on the coffee table that he throws the used tissue next to. As his memory slowly comes back to him, he remembers that he took them so Jonghyun wouldn’t take any more too early. He grabs them both and stuffs them into his pockets. Then he sighs. Poor Jonghyun. The sick little babe. Taemin feels like maybe he was a little too hard on him. He blames the horrendous way in which he was woken up for his grumpy mood, his grogginess elevating his annoyance at how irresponsible Jonghyun was being. He’ll make him an extra nice breakfast after he takes his pills again to make up for it.

At Jonghyun’s door, he knocks gently twice before opening it and peeping in, ready to gently shake his sweet, sleeping boyfriend awake with a tired little smile.

When he steps into the room, he realizes that Jonghyun isn’t even there.

“What the fuck,” he says out loud, frowning at the empty bed and blown out candle. Where the fuck did he go? _Why_ did he go somewhere? Taemin huffs, turning to check the bathroom just in case. Jonghyun isn’t there either. God fucking damn it. He pases out for three hours and his boyfriend disappears. He heads back into the living room, hands on his hips. Where the fuck could he have gone? He better not be--

Soft footsteps snap him out of his thoughts; he looks around, confused, until he realizes that they’re coming from Jonghyun, who’s coming down the stairs from his sister’s floor. A tray of food is in his hands, two plates and two soda cups with closed tops. That can’t be light at all, and he walks slowly, clumsily, half leaning up against the wall. Taemin hisses in disapproval, stalking towards the bottom of the stairs to steady the tray before Jonghyun drops it.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he hisses, frowning as hard as he can at Jonghyun. Jonghyun stumbles when he takes the tray, obviously not up to walking around at all. Taemin is surprised that he made it all the way upstairs without falling on his face. “You should be in bed,” he snaps, turning from Jonghyun and taking the tray to his coffee table. Toaster waffles and orange juice, apparently, for the both of them, with syrup and butter on the side. Healthy enough, Taemin guesses, but still. “You should be resting, you should’ve woken me up. I would’ve made food for us.”

“But, Taeee,” Jonghyun whines. He shuffles to the couch after Taemin and slumps down with a pout. “You were so cute and I already woke you up once and--” He interrupts himself with a painful sounding sneeze and then a groan. Taemin huffs. This is exactly what he’s talking about.

“And you’re walking around up in your sister’s floor while you’re all sick and you touched all up on the food I’m supposed to eat and--and…. Hmph.” He realizes halfway through his sentence, when he turns to glare at Jonghyun, that he wasn’t breathing his sick germs everywhere because he has a facemask on under his pouty eyes. Well, good. “But you still touched my waffles with your germy little hands,” he huffs. He’s not eating those.

“I didn’t, though,” Jonghyun pouts. “I tried to use the oven mitt but it was too big and I couldn’t find any disposable gloves because I think they’re all with the cleaning stuff so I used napkins to move your waffles and hold your cup and everything else and I just wanted to bring you food since I made you mad earlier but now you’re still mad at me and I don’t--” His voice breaks; he sniffles, then coughs, and then sniffles more, eyes watering up and spilling over with tears. “I’m sorry,” he whispers.

He brings his knees up to his chest, wiggling into the corner of the couch and curling up small. Taemin watches as he tries to wipe his cheeks on his sleeve. Then he sighs. Ugh. He’s so bad at everything.

“Hey, don’t….” He runs his fingers through his hair helplessly as Jonghyun just sniffles more. Sitting down on the other side of the couch--he’s still wary of germs--he rummages in his pockets. “Um, here,” he mumbles, handing Jonghyun one of the disinfectant wipes. Jonghyun takes it with a shaky hand, dabbing carefully under his eyes. Taemin twiddles his thumbs in his lap, feeling awkward and guilty but not completely responsible. “I just…,” he starts. “I want you to _relax_ ,” he says. “I want you to just… lie down and do nothing for once and get _better_. I’m not here to have _you_ do all of the work for me while you’re sick.” Sick people aren’t supposed to do anything. They’re supposed to lie around as sick little lumps until they feel better.

“I’m sorry,” Jonghyun mumbles, sniffling again. Taemin huffs.

“Don’t, just… c’mere. You’re gross.” He tugs on Jonghyun’s elbow, scooting closer and pulling him forward at the same time. He takes the wipe from Jonghyun’s hands and rubs his cheeks, runs his fingers through his mussed hair, fixes up his facemask. He can’t see his lips, but he knows that Jonghyun is pouting at him from under there, eyes still watery. “I’m…,” he sighs. “Sorry I yelled at you.” He takes his hands away from Jonghyun, grimaces at them, and pulls out another wipe for himself. Jonghyun wiggles, leans just close enough to nuzzle Taemin’s shoulder for a second, and then scoots back to the corner of his couch.

“I, um,” he says, “I wasn’t sure if you wanted… syrup or not, so I….” He gestures weakly at the bottle of syrup he brought down from upstairs. Taemin lets a small smile quirk up his lips.

“Thanks,” he says quietly. He leans forward and takes both his food and the syrup and butter off of the tray, leaving them on the table. He gives the tray to Jonghyun to have in his lap instead, so he doesn’t have to worry about leaning forward to eat off of the table. “You should take your pills, too,” he adds. He pulls the bottles out of his pocket and struggles to unscrew them, checking the labels again to make sure he doesn’t give Jonghyun too many.

 

4  
“Are you sure the PS4 came out two years ago?”

“Yes, Taemin, I’m sure.”

“Mmmh.” Taemin still isn’t sure that he believes that. He could’ve sworn the PS3 was the new thing. This PS3 controller feels new as fuck in his hands, the shoulder buttons weird and the shape different from what he’s used to. He’s figuring it out well enough to do sick flips off of ramps on his rad motorcycle, though, so whatever. “What’s the get-off-of-your-bike button again?” he asks, squinting at the buttons. He’s never played any Grant Theft Auto game before, let alone the newest one.

“Triangle,” Jonghyun mumbles from where his head is resting on a towel on Taemin’s leg. “Why?”

“You know that bridge over the bay?” Taemin asks, fucking around with the map and trying to remember how to set a waypoint. “I wanna jump off of that and then jump off the bike and then parachute into the water.” It’ll be totally cool. His bike is so cool. It’s got neon rims and blue smoke and LED underlighting and the best horn tune he’s ever heard in his life.

“Taemin, no,” Jonghyun whines. He reaches up to weakly bat at the controller; Taemin jerks it away, more afraid of his germy hands than losing the controller. “You are not driving your two million dollar piece of shit into the bay. Do you know how much insurance on that thing is?”

“Yeah, twenty thousand, I kinda blew it up earlier when you went to go pee.” Taemin shrugs; maybe his concept of videogame money is a little bit skewed, but that doesn’t even seem like that much. Jonghyun has like, a hundred and fifty million dollars anyway. Who gives a shit. Jonghyun is silent for a moment, and then he sighs, rubbing his face against Taemin’s leg.

“It wouldn’t have blown up if you would get armor mods like I keep telling you,” he grumbles. Taemin tsks. Those were ugly. They made his totally rad bike look all bulky and weird. And he doesn’t even need bulletproof tires. It’s not like anyones going to be shooting at him. Well-except for that one time he blew up like, half of the highway and had the cops on him for a few minutes. He probably could have used them them. But still. Whatever. He’s fine. “Don’t throw your bike into the ocean,” Jonghyun says, patting his leg insistently. “Get a different--”

His words catch in his throat as he coughs, painful sounding coughs that rip through his chest. Taemin grimaces, but immediately drops his controller to help Jonghyun sit up straight. He rubs Jonghyun’s back soothingly until he’s done, and then leans forward to grab his bottle of water from the table.

“Here,” he says, unscrewing it for him. Jonghyun takes it gratefully in his shaky hand, pulling his facemask down to take careful, tiny sips. Taemin checks his watch. It’s only been three and a half hours since the last time Jonghyun took his pills. “Mmm,” he hums. “Do you want me to make you soup or something?” He asks. Jonghyun has to be hungry again after breakfast, and by the time he’s done it should be time to take his pills again. Jonghyun swallows thickly, lowering his water bottle and biting his lip.

“I can--” he starts, but Taemin cuts him off.

“No,” he frowns. “You stay here.” Jonghyun pouts at him; Taemin frowns even harder. After a moment, Jonghyun humphs a tiny little noise and grabs a spare pillow to lie down on.

“Can you make me oatmeal?” he asks. “With cinnamon? The canister is in the cabinet above the stove.”

Oatmeal. Taemin can manage that. He hates it, but he’s seen people make it enough times to figure it out for himself. He gets up, handing Jonghyun the controller so he has something to do while he waits.

“I’ll be back in a few,” he says, watching as Jonghyun shifts to get more comfortable and then pulling his blanket up over his shoulders. Jonghyun hums in acknowledgement, nuzzling the hand that Taemin brings up to pet through his hair. After one last check that Jonghyun is all snuggly and good for now, Taemin turns and shuffles up the stairs to his sister’s floor. He’s never actually been up here before; It looks just about the same as Jonghyun’s, except with less stuff and a bigger tv and the kitchen along the front wall. He brings himself to the sink to wash his hands, confident that he can work this out without completely ruining Sodam’s stuff.

Fifteen minutes later, he looks at Jonghyun’s bowl of oatmeal, mildly proud of himself. It’s kind of gluey, but he added a splash of milk to fix it like he’s seen Jinki do sometimes, and added cinnamon and strawberries and a little brown sugar like the instructions on the canister suggested. He grabs a spoon and a napkin, glances over the kitchen to make sure he didn’t leave anything unwashed, and then heads back down the stairs. Jonghyun is still playing GTAV; it looks like he’s in a race or something on Taemin’s rad bike. When he notices Taemin, he smiles and pauses the game.

“Hey,” he hums. Taemin hums the same back, sitting next to Jonghyun and giving him the bowl to hold in his lap. Jonghyun mumbles a soft “thanks” next, smiling at the strawberries on top. He pulls his facemask down to eat and Taemin wiggles a little closer to the end of the couch and a little further away from him. Jonghyun notices this and grins, shaking his head. Apparently he’s gone from being all pouty about Taemin’s tendency to distance himself and just finds it amusing now. How lovely.

“Be careful,” Taemin tells him when he takes his first spoonful of oatmeal. “It’s hot.”

“Thanks, Jinki,” Jonghyun teases. Taemin scrunches his nose. Wow. Rude. He takes personal offense to that. Jonghyun leans over just close enough to nudge him with his elbow. “Really, though,” he says. “How come you’re all strict and overly cautious and shit? You’re not acting like usual. You don’t seem like yourself.”

He doesn’t seem like an uncaring piece of shit, Jonghyun means. Taemin puffs up his lips. He knows that he hasn’t been keeping up with his whole thing. He’s had more pressing matters to deal with.

“Usually I’m not worried that you’re going to die,” he mutters. He reaches for the PS3 controller, wiping off Jonghyun’s hand germs with his sleeve since he’s used all of the wipes already. He feels like maybe he went a little overboard with those. He also wonders if his sister has more. He unpauses the game, then promptly crashes into a building and blows the fuck up because Jonghyun was driving his bike at fucking Mach five. “Shit,” he says, and then, when he doesn’t hear any giggles from Jonghyun, turns to look at him. Jonghyun is staring right back at him, with a tiny little smile and pink cheeks. It’s a smile that unsettles Taemin; knowing and smug and cheeky. He frowns. “What?” he asks.

“You _care_ about me,” Jonghyun grins, drawing out the word and leaning up close to poke Taemin’s shoulder. Almost immediately Taemin feels heat rising up into his cheeks. Fuck. Who the fuck told Jonghyun he could make Taemin blush like this? It certainly wasn’t him. Why the fuck does he have to say true shit like this all the time and put Taemin on the spot. He knows that he cares about Jonghyun; he doesn’t need it rubbed in his face. Now he’s thinking about how much he actually does care about and worry over and need Jonghyun all the time and--ugh. He keeps getting redder the more he thinks about it, the more Jonghyun’s smarmy little grin spreads across his face. This is bullsit.

“No shit, of course I do,” he snaps, curling up all tiny in the corner of the couch. Fuck Captain Obvious over here and his making Taemin get all _emotional_ and shit. “Eat your oatmeal,” he says, flapping a hand at Jonghyun’s bowl. He gets his hold on the controller again and tries to figure out what he was doing in the game. Before he does, he remembers something else and drops it. “And take your pills,” he adds. He snatches up the pill bottles and shakes out Jonghyun’s dosage, then drops them unceremoniously on his napkin. “And shut up.” Talking will make his throat worse or something. And he can’t eat if he’s talking. And he won’t be able to make Taemin blush even more. That part is important.

 

5  
Jonghyun knew Taemin would get all frowny at him. He knew it, but he came out here anyway, dragged his sick butt to the front door just to watch Taemin and the others ride off into the sunset. It’s been a whole two days of Taemin taking care of him. He’s totally way almost probably all the way maybe better by now. Just a little sniffly and weak like on the first day. He is one hundred percent capable of leaning up against the front window for a few minutes to watch his hot biker boyfriend leave.

Taemin is still frowning at him, though, and he does have to admit that he has a point. He promised to stay in his room and get better barely ten minutes ago. Taemin tells him this, very sternly, with one gentle hand on his shoulder and the other fixing up his bangs. Jonghyun finds it hard to feel his anger when Taemin isn’t even trying very hard himself. He plays with the hem of Taemin’s jacket, doing his best to make his eyes big and pitiful since he’s still wearing his facemask over his lips.

“I wanted to say goodbye,” he pouts.

“You already did,” Taemin reminds him, gesturing at is door behind the stairs. “In there. Where you should have stayed.” He adds that last bit pointedly, squeezing Jonghyun’s shoulder. Jonghyun pouts harder.

“I can come out for five minutes,” he says. Taemin hums in disapproval.

“You’re gonna go right back in once we leave, right?” he asks. Jonghyun rolls his eyes. Of course he is. Sodam won’t let him work any more than Taemin will. “Hey,” Taemin snaps, tapping his cheek lightly. “Listen to me. You don’t get to work for like… three more days. No working.”

“What?” Jonghyun asks. Three days is _forever_. “I have to--”

“You have to get _better_ ,” Taemin cuts him off loudly. Jonghyun huffs. He is getting better. He’s totally already better than before. He’s not even coughing as bad anymore. He needs to go back to doing his job. He can’t sit around doing nothing all day. He’ll just-- _“Listen to me, Jonghyun,_ ” Taemin says, shaking him to get his attention. Jonghyun blinks, startled out of his thoughts. “You do not go back to work for another three days at _least._ And if you still feel sick you stay in bed. You can not work yourself to death again the minute that I’m gone.” He shakes Jonghyun again, gently, and Jonghyun pouts. He doesn’t like Taemin being so authorative with him. It makes him feel guilty and weird. He’s sure that Taemin could get his point across if he was lazy and quiet like usual. Probably. Maybe.

Maybe not.

He sighs. He wouldn’t listen to Taemin at all if he was just being a mumbly kid. He pretty much deserves all of this aggressiveness. It’s the same as what happens when Sodam gets tired of him being defiant and pulls her big sister authority on him. He never really learns.

“Fine,” he mumbles, dejected. “Can you go back to normal now?” he asks. “I don’t… want you to leave like… this.” He doesn’t want Taemin to leave all angry and uptight and worried. “I”ll stay in bed, I promise.” He really will. He’ll stay in bed and take his pills and eat good food and take care of himself and everything. He slides his hand up Taemin’s side, pressing against him insistently. “Can I get a kiss?” he asks. Just a tiny little one. It doesn’t even have to be on the mouth. Taemin looks at him closely for a moment. Then he takes his hands off of his shoulders and runs his fingers through his hair. He closes his eyes for a moment; when he opens them, it’s only halfway and he gives a little shrug.

“I’ll see you in a few months,” he says, and leans down to press his lips against Jonghyun’s cheek. Jonghyun smiles, giddy at the contact, but it doesn’t last long. Taemin is still worried. He can tell. He’s _acting_ acting, just pretending to be _fine_ instead of pretending to be a lazy asshole. He bites his lip, then sucks his hands into his sleeves and wraps his arms around Taemin’s waist in a hug. He nuzzles against the fabric of Taemin’s jacket while Taemin is still registering his movement. Soon enough his hands come up to wrap around Jonghyun’s shoulders in a return gesture. Jonghyun smiles, hums softly, and squeezes him gently.

“I’ll email you, or something,” he says. He knows that Taemin uses Kibum’s phone more than Kibum does. It shouldn’t be hard for him to check his email every so often in the next few days. “I’ll let you know how I’m doing. I really, really promise that I”ll rest.”

“Hmmm,” Taemin hums. He squeezes Jonghyun back. “Okay.” He pulls away and when Jonghyun looks at him now, he’s smiling his regular little smile. Jonghyun practically beams at the sight of it. He’s satisfied, reassured. He believes Jonghyun.

“Bye,” Jonghyun says happily, pushing Taemin towards the door since he knows how bad he is at saying goodbye himself. Taemin takes his gesture gratefully, letting his hands slide off of Jonghyun’s sweater and into a little wave over his shoulder. Jonghyun watches him slouch outside and into the garage. Everyone else had left the garage while they were talking and are waiting around in the parking lot, so Jonghyun watches as Taemin follows them all out onto the road instead of leading them for once. Then he turns around and shuffles back to his floor, grabbing his blanket from the couch and taking it to curl up with in his bed. He’ll email Taemin later, when he wakes up.


	3. Six times for that Ontae brother/friend/guardian/???? aesthetic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All three of them are grouped around a shelf in the adult store, inspecting various little boxes while Amber makes various sexual motions with their hand and Luna nods in agreement. Taemin looks a little lost and Jinki diverts his course, figuring that his cute cashier will still be there to flirt with after he snoops this out anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is where they start getting out of order so hey u know good luck

****1  
The rumble of Jinki stomach grows its loudest yet as he pats his pockets to make sure he has his stuff.

“Shut up,” he mumbles at it. He’s going to go get food right now, and it knows that. It’s just whining now to be obnoxious. His keys and his wallet are good, so he looks around to see who else is following Minah out to dinner down the street. Sunny, Amber, Rania, Minhwan… a good sized group, it looks like. He catches sight of Taemin on the couch on the other side of the room, curled up and passed out with Kyuhyun’s laptop sharing his pillow. He pauses to think, conflicted.

He would go wake Taemin up and see if he wants to come along, but that would run the risk of Taemin being grumpy at him. That grumpiness usually wears off after a few minutes, though, and he’s sure that Taemin would be glad to be woken up for food. Plus, the last time they left him sleeping, he got all pouty that they’d left him behind without even asking. He’d whined about having to take food from Kyuhyun’s kitchen and use his weird stove, which Jinki does have to admit is pretty fucked up. He doesn’t use it himself if he can avoid it. Everyone else is still fixing themselves up around the door, so he detaches himself from the dinner crowd and heads across the room.

Taemin is a rumpled mess on the couch; mussed hair, baggy sweater, chipped nail polish, headphones tangled around his wrist, mouth hanging open. A finished youtube video is on the laptop screen and the charger cable is stuffed under his pillow. Jinki finds himself smiling fondly at the image. A sleepy little biker. He reaches down and gently shakes Taemin’s shoulder.

“Hey,” he says. “Tae.” Taemin responds with a disgruntled mumble and a weak little finger wiggle; Jinki rolls his eyes and shakes him again, fluffs the hair at the back of his head. “Wake up, just for a sec,” he says. “Some of us are gonna go out to eat. Do you want to come?” He pulls Taemin’s bangs out of his face as best he can when his face is half pressed up against the cushion. The black headband that he’s wearing only seems to mess his hair up even more. Taemin’s face scrunches up, and then he half rolls over to crack a groggy eye open.

“Like, dinner?” he asks. “Where?”

“The place down the street with the bendy straws,” Jinki says. Taemin blinks slowly at him a few times, thinking.

“Hmm,” he finally hums. “Sure.” He yawns into his pillow and starts to roll to his back. “Give me a min- _-fuck--_ ”

He rolls right off of the couch and thumps at Jinki’s feet, taking Kyuhyun’s laptop with him. It thuds a few feet across the floor; Taemin groans a few noises into the carpet. Jinki doesn’t even know if he’s surprised or not.

“Oh my fucking god,” Taemin hisses. Behind him, Jinki hears Amber snort the same thing amidst a group of muffled laughter. He smiles himself as Taemin struggles to a sitting position, watches as he pushes both his hair and his headband out of his face and looks up. Taemin just looks at him for a moment; his eyes dart quickly towards the front door before he looks back and clambers to his feet. “Come on, what are we waiting for?” he asks. “I’m ready.” He pushes Jinki’s arm impatiently. Jinki raises his eyebrows, looking him up and down. He has red lines on his cheek from the fabric of his sweater and his hair is a wild mess and one of his eyes isn’t even open all the way yet. Kyuhyun’s laptop is still sitting on the floor in the middle of the room.

“Like this?” he asks, just to be clear. Taemin tries to look inconspicuous as he wipes a line of half dried drool from his chin and fails.

“Yeah?” he says. “Why not? I’m ready, let’s go.”

“I thought you needed a minute,” Jinki says, smile growing wider by the second.

“Hmm?” Taemin asks. “What?”

“That’s what you said, wasn’t it? Before you fell? To give you a minute?”

“Oh,” Taemin says. He still hasn’t let himself blush, which is impressive, at least. “Uh, no, nah, I said, give me a..... A min--a m--look, everyone’s getting impatient, let’s go, come on--” He pushes passed Jinki and tugs on his elbow with one hand. He fusses with his headband with the other so he doesn’t have to look up at the others as he draws nearer, and Jinki shakes his head as he stuffs his hands into his pockets and follows.

 

2  
The colorful birthday tassels someone taped to the handles of Taemin’s bike make Jinki smile to himself as they flutter in the wind, even though he’s still kind of pissed. His frown makes its way back onto his lips as he watches Taemin’s hair also blow in the wind. He huffs behind his helmet for the umpteenth time. Eighteen years old and the guy thinks he can just _stop wearing_ his helmet because the law doesn’t require him to anymore, because feeling “kind of gross” is worse than potentially cracking his head open onto the asphalt. The only reason they’re even on the road right now is because Taemin pulled both the birthday card and the “make me” card at the same time and Jinki would look like the asshole if he kept going on about it.

He’s thinking, though, that he doesn’t give a shit if he looks like an asshole--because at least he’s _right-_ -when they all come to the stoplight before the entrance to the freeway. He leans to the side to peer around Changmin at the rush of cars and trucks on the road, and then backwards to see around Sunny. Taemin is in the next lane and he means to throw a frown at him, an extra reminder of his disappointment. When he catches sight of him, though, he puts a pause on that plan for a moment. Taemin is frowning at the busy road himself, fluffing his fingers through his hair.

As Jinki watches, Taemin grimaces to no one in particular and turns on his bike to unzip his bag. The light in front of them turns green; the cars ahead of them and the rest of the club pull ahead before Taemin tugs what he wanted out of his bag. It’s his helmet. Jinki finds himself grinning smugly as Taemin stuffs it under his arm and spurs his bike down the on ramp in spite of how unsafe that action is by itself. He’ll let a few moments of an awkward arm pass in exchange for Taemin wearing his damn helmet. He follows Taemin before people start honking at him until they pull up in separate lines waiting to be let onto the main highway. Rolling casually up right next to Taemin, he pushes his visor up so he can speak clearly.

“I thought it made you too sweaty,” he calls. Taemin throws him the ugliest look and Jinki twitches an eyebrow at him knowingly.

“Shut up,” he snaps, and jams the helmet over his head. Jinki chuckles to himself and rolls forward in line. Good to know it only took a little reminder of how dangerous the freeway actually is to get Taemin to reconsider instead of an actual near-death experience. Taemin’s line moves up next and he’s glaring at Jinki from inside of his helmet when they line up again. “Highways only,” he says, voice muffled. Jinki snorts and shakes his head, tapping his visor back down. They’ll negotiate over that later.

 

3  
“Mmh….”

Jinki pauses in his lazy conversation when Taemin slouches down onto the couch next to him. He could have sworn Taemin was shuffling around the food table a minute ago. He must have just missed him finishing up. Taemin leans on his shoulder, then slides down to lie over his lap with another sleepy mumble. Jinki chuckles softly, pulling his jacket off of the arm of the couch and draping it over him. Taemin mumbles a third time and clutches it around his shoulders.

He’s always falling asleep on Jinki during these club meetings. Jinki can’t blame him; not much happens besides a bunch of bike enthusiasts talking about Official Motorcycle Business (TM). He just comes for the cool bike videos set to tacky 80’s music and to catch up with old friends, to be honest; and even then, only when they happen to be in town on the day of a meeting. Taemin comes for the free food and to hear stories from the road when he’s not asleep.

“Anyway,” Jinki says, pushing Taemin’s hair out of his face as he looks back up at the people he was talking to, “what were you saying about a crash?”

“Not really a crash as much as the new kid being… a fucking ass, really,” Kangin shrugs. “Literally his first day and he was trying so hard to show off that he flipped himself over a wheel stop.”

“Holy shit.” Jinki rubs his hand over his face, and then cards his fingers through his hair. How does someone even fuck up that badly? In a parking lot, no less? Next to Kangin, Nana nods.

“He’d _barely_ even started to brake when he hit it,” she says. “He got road rash. Or. Sidewalk rash?” She  looks pensive for a moment before she shrugs. “He got fucked up.”

“Heechul was pissed,” Donghae supplies helpfully. Jinki lets out a whoosh of air.

“Yeah, I can imagine,” he says. He’s met the other leader one or two times before and never really wanted to get on his bad side. “Is he okay?” he asks. “Still in the--”

“Mmgh.” This time, a soft hand against his neck is what interrupts his sentence. He looks down at Taemin, mildly offended; Taemin’s hand slides back down to tug Jinki’s jacket tighter around his shoulders.

“What?” Jinki asks, poking Taemin’s cheek. Taemin scrunches up his face and curls more into a ball on their couch.

“Talk quieter,” he whines. “I’m trying to sleep.” He buries his face in Jinki’s stomach with another grumble. Jinki snorts. Little shit. Still, he wiggles his hand under Taemin’s arm to rub his side soothingly. They did wake up pretty early this morning.

“Is he serious with this?”

The other three bikers are staring between the two of them when Jinki looks up; behind them, the very public meeting is still taking place. He grins and shrugs. It’s nothing new.

“His bike didn’t get too messed up, did it?” he asks, much quieter now as Taemin takes his wrist and holds his forearm close.

 

4 ((otp))  
12:34 on Jinki’s watch tells him that his favorite cashier at this mall has just started her shift, so he excuses himself from the group huddled around Kyuhyun in the arcade and sets off towards the froyo place. It’ll be around lunchtime by the time he’s done flirting, he figures. Maybe he’ll text a few people to meet him at the food court, maybe find Taemin and make him buy him the lunch he won from that bet last month.

Or, maybe, he’ll find Taemin right now, standing inside of the sex shop next door to the arcade with Amber and Luna. He pauses in his walking. Hmm. That’s new. He usually hangs with them when they come to this mall so they can get their hair dye and makeup and various effects, but he’s never seen Taemin in there before. All three of them are grouped around a shelf, inspecting various little boxes while Amber makes various sexual motions with their hand and Luna nods in agreement. Taemin looks a little lost and Jinki diverts his course, figuring that his cute cashier will still be there after he snoops this out anyway.

“What are we talking about here?” he asks when he approaches the trio, peering over Taemin’s shoulder at the shelf. Taemin glances at him quickly before he focuses back on the box in his hand.

“Lube,” he mumbles.

“Fingering,” Luna beams, wiggling the fingers she has wrapped around Amber’s arm.

“ _Science_ ,” Amber proclaims proudly. They have four boxes all jumbled up in their arms. Jinki looks between the three of them with equal parts amusement and apprehension. He pieces everything together and realizes that they’re talking about the science of how different lubes work during fingering; seems simple enough. Taemin and Jonghyun were bound to run out of lube eventually.

“How come you didn’t ask me for help?” he asks Taemin, nudging his side and acting hurt. He’s Taemin’s mentor or whatever. Sex questions should come to him. Taemin nudges him back with a scoff.

“Because it’s weird,” he mutters. “We were talking about like, the inside of Jonghyun’s asshole. I’d like to not discuss that with _you._ ” He grimaces a little grimace and shakes his head. Jinki thinks for a moment about really bugging Taemin and pretending to still be hurt, but then he would have to say that he wants to hear about what it’s like inside of Jonghyun’s ass, and that would just… start getting way too weird.

“Good point,” he says instead. Taemin picks up another box from the shelf and looks between it and the first one for a moment.

“I think I’m gonna get this one,” he tells Amber, showing it to them questioningly. They look it over and give him an approving nod.

“Get a bigger one than that, though, because you always wind up using more of that water-based shit than you think you’ll need,” they say. Luna nods and pulls a medium sized box off of the shelf to switch with Taemin’s.

“We’re gonna look for our stuff now, ‘kay?” she says, patting Taemin’s box happily and tugging Amber towards the back of the store. Taemin mumbles a positive reply and puts the lube he’s getting on another shelf, then starts fixing up the rows that they messed up while they were looking. Jinki steps beside him to help. He can hear the pair of them looking through the collars and strap-ons and shit back there and shakes his head fondly. He doesn’t think Taemin could have found anyone more qualified to ask about fingering than those two.

“You still have good condoms, right?” he asks. He knows that he probably hasn’t used all three boxes that he bought him last year, but they have expiration dates for a reason. Taemin nods as he straightens out the shelf and grabs his lube. He doesn’t elaborate, but Jinki trusts him and Jonghyun to stay on top of that as well.

“C’mon,” Taemin mumbles, tugging on his sleeve. “I wanna look at the other stuff.” He drags Jinki over towards a wall of dildos; Jinki raises his brows.

“I thought it was weird having me be here for this,” he says. Taemin shrugs as he picks up an unboxed, floppy, neon green fake dick.

“I’m not gonna _buy_ one,” he says, giggles taking over the end of his sentence. He squeezes the dildo in his hands and watches the veins bulge from the pressure. “Fuck,” he grins. Jinki rolls his eyes.

“Are you even mature enough to buy a dildo?” he asks. Taemin frowns at him, offended.

“I’m eighteen, aren’t I?” he demands.

“I said mature enough, not old enough,” Jinki says. He and Taemin both fall silent for a moment to look at the dildo still in Taemin’s hand, which he waved in a little circle when he asked that question. Taemin puts it back onto the shelf and tugs on Jinki’s jacket with a humph. They head back to the counter, Jinki letting his smug silence do his talking for him.

 

5 ((except pretend hes younger lmao))  
“Let me join your group.”

The sudden appearance of Taemin across him at this little diner table doesn’t make Jinki jump, but it does make him look up from his menu with confusion. How did he even know that they’d arrived here already? Jinki’s waitress hasn’t even come by to take his lunch order yet. He can’t have seen them pull in at the motel across from his foster home, either, not at this time of day.

“Shouldn’t you be at school?” he asks, frowning at how Taemin’s messy black hair is all up in his face again. Taemin shrugs.

“It’s lunch right now,” he says. “Let me ride with you.” He’s sitting up straight, leaning his arms on the table and looking at Jinki with an unfamiliar level gaze. Jinki frowns. The school is over fifteen minutes away and he doesn’t know if it even allows students off campus during lunch, but doesn’t push it because the way Taemin is looking at him tells him that this conversation is going to be even more complicated than a missed class. This isn’t the usual half mumbled request with some added purposefully obnoxious pleading thrown in; Taemin is serious, is actually pushing for it this time. Jinki sighs. He knew this was going to happen sooner or later. He folds up his menu so he can give Taemin his full attention.

“You don’t have your license,” he says. He doesn’t insult Taemin by stalling and asking if he means permanently or not when he already knows the answer to that.

“I have my permit,” Taemin shoots back, quick as lightning. “I’ve had it for four months. In two months I turn sixteen and I can take the test.” Jinki doesn’t argue that; he trusts Taemin to know the laws for this shit like the back of his hand. Taemin shifts even closer to the edge of his seat. “In two months you can _take me with you_ ,” he says. Jinki huffs shortly. Like it’s just that simple.

“You can’t just leave--”

“Don’t--I can’t--stay here, for another two years, Jinki.” Taemin runs a hand through his dark hair, grips the strands, and tugs; after a second he lets go and slides his hand down his face with a deep breath. Jinki raises his eyebrows, shocked at the uncharacteristic outburst. Taemin lifts his head to look at Jinki with almost desperate eyes. “I can’t, Jinki, I fucking-- _can’t._ I won’t last, I won’t--” He stops short with a glance over Jinki’s shoulder. Jinki looks as well and flashes a polite smile as his waitress makes her way up to his table.

“Are you two ready to order?” she asks, holding a hand out for Jinki’s menu.

“Uh, yeah,” Jinki says. “A double burger with extra onions, please, and some curly fries. And….” They both turn to look at Taemin, who’s suddenly become very interested in the little packets of jelly on top of the napkin box. Jinki sighs. He’s just a kid. “And,” he says again, so the waitress turns back to him, “chicken strips with regular fries and a fruit cup. Please. That’ll be it.” He smiles at her again as she nods and walks off. Taemin has picked up a strawberry jelly and is playing with the pull off corner.

“Thanks,” he mumbles at the table. Jinki hums in reply. He pushes his untouched water across the table; Taemin takes it and drinks a small sip before he fully looks up again. “Look,” he says. “We’ve been through all of this before, just.… I have money, I can make more if I need it, I have my own bike and I know I’ll be able to fix it up better once I’m with you, I have no one close in this town, I know what it’s like on the road, I have more than enough experience on a bike, and it doesn’t matter if you _think_ I can get my diploma because I _know_ that I _will not make it._ ” He pauses to throw a sharp look across the table like he’s expecting Jinki to try to cut him off and isn’t having any of it. Jinki holds his tongue for just that reason, because he knows that they’ve argued this before. It’s not that Taemin doesn’t have the skill to get through school; it’s that he doesn’t have the motivation, and no matter how much Jinki wants it to, it’s not going to just pop back with the way things are for him.

“And,” Taemin says, after a bit of hesitation. “I’ve decided, already… that I’m leaving, anyway, when I turn sixteen. Either way.”

“Either way?” Jinki asks, confused. He can’t mean what Jinki thinks he means. “Where are you going to go?” he demands. Where is he going to sleep, how is he going to get food, how will he stay _safe_? Taemin shrugs and rubs his face tiredly.

“I don’t know,” he sighs. “Anywhere else but here. But I’d rather it be with you.” He leans back in his seat and shrugs again, looking determined and resigned and far too old for his age. Jinki mirrors him, leaning back and running his fingers through his hair. Damn it. He knows that he has no real authority to tell Taemin to stay, but both of the alternatives are…. He huffs.

“You can’t,” he starts, looking for some reason, any reason, that this is a bad idea. “Am I just supposed to kidnap you?” he asks. “You’ll be sixteen. That’s not old enough to--”

“Adopt me.”

“Ad--what?” Jinki blinks, thrown off by the sudden surety of Taemin’s voice, the way he’s sitting up again and leaning on the table between them again.

“Adopt me,” Taemin repeats. “You can, you can, it’s legal, it’s simple, I’ve looked it up--please.”

Oh, that’s new. That desperate tone in Taemin’s voice, the needy pleading in his eyes--Jinki’s never seen those before.

“Please, Jinki,” Taemin begs. “I need… please.”

A quiet thought in the back of Jinki’s mind tells him that his resolve should be a little harder to crack than this. He crosses his arms sternly and looks into Taemin’s deep eyes. He can’t believe that he’s actually starting to consider this.

“You’re trying to guilt me into doing this,” he states flatly. Taemin doesn’t deny it; he breathes a deep breath and shrugs weakly.

“Is it working?” he asks.

Later--years later--sometimes Jinki lies in bed and wonders if he can really blame the guilt if he was going to say yes anyway.

 

6  
The newsprint Jinki is absorbed in gets suddenly blurry when someone’s--he can hardly imagine whose--hand appears in front of his face and plucks his glasses away. He blinks, disoriented by the sudden change in his eyesight, and drops his paper. There’s a familiar yellowish blob standing there and he squints at it in annoyance.

“Ha ha, wow,” Taemin says, “your eyesight is shit.” Jinki watches the blob push something blue over it’s eyes and huffs.

“Every time, you do this.” _Every_ time.

“Ha ha, how do you even see without these?”

“I don’t have to when you’re not here,” Jinki grumbles, reaching out to tug on the black blob that he’s sure is Taemin’s sleeve. Instead of taking a seat next to him, Taemin invites himself into Jinki’s lap and loops his arms around his neck. Now that he’s closer, Jinki can actually make out his shitty little grin. It doesn’t brighten his mood. “Give them back,” he demands. “You know I only wear my contacts on the bike.” He takes care not to poke Taemin’s eye out when he tugs his glasses off of his face and jams them back over his own eyes. Now Taemin and his smug grin are even clearer.

“It’s been six years,” he says as he blinks back into focus. “Why do you always do this?”

“Mmm.” Taemin hums in thought, leans forward until their foreheads are touching, and wraps his arms more securely around Jinki’s shoulders. “Because it makes it look like I don’t give a shit about your personal space or authority and hides the fact that you’re incredibly important to me and I owe my life to you and I really don’t know where I’d be without you.” He shrugs a little shrug. Jinki opens his mouth, and then closes it. Taemin’s tiny smile curves into something more smirklike. Little shit. Jinki couldn’t be mad at that if he tried. It’s actually making him get all warm and shit on the inside. He humphs, annoyed that Taemin got him stuck in gratitude like this, and pushes him a comfortable distance away with a gentle hand. Taemin presses right up against him again and rests his head on his shoulder. “Hi,” he says.

“You know,” Jinki sighs fondly, letting him stay and picking up his newspaper, “I thought, when you got older, that you would get a little less obnoxious.”

“Yeah, you thought wrong,” Taemin says. Jinki rolls his eyes. He’d figured that out a while ago. All that happened was that Taemin stopped being as sleepy all of the time. He’s still a bottomless pit of food, still a clingy snuggler, still a sarcastic asshole. The only difference is that now he has more energy to be all of those things. At least he talks in more than mumbles most of the time.

Jinki nudges him a little more to get his arm out of the way of his newspaper so he can keep reading. There isn’t much more to add to the conversation; he knows that Taemin knows that he appreciates his sentiment and he doesn’t feel like saying it out loud. It’ll just make Taemin even smugger. Taemin stays in his lap but doesn’t bother him too much anymore. His fingers play with the hair at the back of Jinki’s head, messing with the gel and fiddling with the style. Jinki supposes that he’s fine with letting him do this. He is incredibly important, after all.


	4. Five times some things happened in no particular order

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Excuse me,” Jonghyun says accusingly, ignoring how Kibum pretends to be startled like he didn’t see Jonghyun at all. “What were you doing with my boyfriend on my boyfriend’s bike with my boyfriend in town with my boyfriend?”

****1  
“I’m gonna go get ready for lunch now,” Jonghyun says quietly. He pokes gently at Taemin’s cheeks, like the loss of his warmth  when he slid off of the couch didn’t wake him up already. “I’ll see you… later, okay?” He hesitates before he finishes his sentence, like he was going to say “then” but then changed his mind. Good choice, Taemin thinks, because he doesn’t think he’s going to be getting up anytime soon. He bats Jonghyun’s finger away and rolls onto his back like he was before Jonghyun came to snap at him for his shoes being on the couch and then snuggle him.

“Sure,” he mumbles, throwing his arm over his eyes. He’ll definitely see Jonghyun sometime later, after he wakes up again, eventually. He’s so tired. Rain makes him so sleepy. Before Jonghyun leaves, Taemin feels him put something between his boots and the couch. He cracks an eye open to peek at it after a minute; it’s Jonghyun’s hoodie. Oh. Aw. He smiles to himself, the nuzzles more into his own arm and tries to fall back asleep. The faint smell of the potted plant he’s under soothes him, relaxes him, carries him into gentle dreams of leaves and puddles and sweet little kisses from a sweet little boyfriend.

He wakes up some number of hours later and feels like death.

He groans, unfurling himself from the awkward position he curled up into while he was asleep. The bright lights of the lobby assault his eyes and make him scrunch his face. His mouth is grossly dry and his elbow is stiff pain from the awkward angle he had it at. He groans again as he rubs his face and pushes his hair out of his eyes. He’s never had a more disorienting nap in his life.

As his head clears from a murky, overly polluted swamp of brain thoughts to a murky, only kind of polluted swamp, the faint smell of lunch registers in his nose. He squints groggily across the lobby at the little walkway to the dining area. Lunch. He’ll go get food. Jonghyun said he would see him there later earlier and everything. He remembers that. He grabs the lump of Jonghyun’s hoodie from under his boots, rolls off of the couch, and stumbles to his feet, trying in vain to rub the sleepiness out of his eyes.

When he reaches the corner, he leans up against the wall and drags himself along. To be honest, he kind of wants to just go back to sleep. He bets here against the hardwood would be much more comfortable than all pretzeled up on the couch. The wall ends while he’s in the middle of a gross yawn and he stumbles, reaching out to find something to steady himself on. His hand catches the end of a chair so he grabs that to hold on to, then lets himself fall into it with a new groan. He’s just. So fucked up right now.

A distinct lack of lunchtime chatter makes him look up: the rest of the little dining area is completely empty, save for one person at the next table over. If Taemin squints, he can make that person out as Jonghyun. He’s leaning over the table and wiping it with a cloth. Taemin looks down at his own table and notices the crumpled up napkins and crumbs over the surface. Ew. He grabs a new napkin and flaps them away with distaste. Then he grabs a sugar packet and fumbles to rip it open. Sugar should help him wake up.

“That’s not exactly a meal.” Jonghyun’s reproachful voice makes Taemin look up a second time. He spills half of his sugar packet in the process, but whatever. Jonghyun is here to clean the tables anyway. He mumbles something incoherent and grumpy as Jonghyun sweeps all of the used napkins into a garbage can. Jonghyun snorts. “Enjoy your nap?” he asks. Taemin groans again.

“No,” he grumbles. Jonghyun sweeps away his spilled sugar, then spritzes the area with table cleaner and wipes it clean. Taemin plops Jonghyun’s hoodie there when he’s done and rests his head on it, eyes closing again. “Lunch?” he asks hopefully.

“You just missed it,” Jonghyun says.

“Nooo,” Taemin whines. That’s not fair. He hears Jonghyun fixing up the napkin box next to his head. Finally it registers in his brain that Jonghyun is cleaning up after the lunch hour. He literally _just_ missed it. Ugh. “Can you make me fries?” he asks, cracking his eyes open to look at Jonghyun in what he hopes is a pathetic, pitiful way.

“Lunch is over, Taemin,” Jonghyun says. His voice is more exasperated than firm. Taemin can work with that. He can wiggle himself in there.

“Please?” he asks. “Just the leftovers?” He likes the little, almost burned ones anyway. He would love some fry bits right now. He just wants something to eat.

“Taemin…,” Jonghyun sighs. Taemin closes his eyes again and pouts. Fine. He’s not up to riding at all, but maybe he can convince someone else to bring him back food. Sunny would, probably. “Give me five dollars.”

“What?” Taemin peeps up at Jonghyun again and finds him holding out his hand, expectant. Oh. Holy shit. He’s actually going to do it. But….

“Your fries don’t cost five dollars,” he says, suspicious. They’re like, a dollar fifty. This seems supremely overcharged, even when factoring in the regular tip.

“I literally just cleaned the fryer baskets ten minutes ago,” Jonghyun says. “And I’ll have to reheat the oil and then wait for it to cool down again so I can clean the rest.” He wiggles his hand; Taemin grunts into his hoodie. Oh. Yeah. Okay then. He reaches behind himself and feels up his own butt for too long to find his back pocket, and then to fumble for his wallet. Bringing it up on the table, he squints inside, skips over the five dollar bill, and pulls out a ten.

“Mmgh,” he says, holding it out. Jonghyun takes it, looks at for a moment; Taemin hopes he doesn’t try to argue. He wants to compensate for being a bother and he doesn’t want to have to explain himself. Thankfully, Jonghyun just stuffs the money into his apron pocket with a little word of thanks and pushes his cleaning cart back towards the kitchen.

“I”ll be back in a few,” he says. Taemin grunts again to show that he heard. Then he turns his face into Jonghyun’s hoodie and lets his eyes slide shut again. He feels like literal trash. That nap was the worst thing he’s ever done to himself.

He’s not sure if he falls asleep or not, if the smell of fresh fries pulls him from sleep or just a gross sleepy stupor. Either way, he’s glad. Fries.

And… strawberries, and bacon, and a little carton of milk, he finds out once he opens his eyes to look. Jonghyun gives him a little smile as he sits in the chair opposite him and pushes his plate of food forward.

“The bacon was easier to deal with than anything else,” he shrugs, apology in his voice. Taemin shakes his head. He’s definitely not complaining. He’s just glad he’s been given extra food. Who cares if part of it is more breakfasty than the rest.

“Thanks,” he mumbles, reaching for a fry. It is the best fucking thing he has ever tasted in his life, he decides when it first touches his tongue. He can’t even explain why. It just is. Sleep disorientation probably has something to do with it. Glancing across the table, he notices that Jonghyun has his own little meal of fries and a grilled cheese sandwich. That’s fucking adorable. He grabs his milk carton and fumbles with it for an embarrassingly long amount of time before Jonghyun gently takes it from him and opens it himself. He hands it back to Taemin with a tiny little smirk, which Taemin humphs at. He mumbles “thanks” again anyway. Then he fumbles with the straw sitting on the edge of his tray for another too long moment and grumbles at the wrapper when he finally gets it off.

“Feeling okay?” Jonghyun asks. Taemin can just hear the amusement in his voice. Well, he’s glad one of them is finding this all entertaining.

“Never let me sleep on a couch again,” he says, stabbing his straw into his carton and taking slow sips. Never fucking again in his life. Ever.

“Why didn’t you just go up to your room?” Jonghyun asks. He says it like it should be obvious. Somehow Taemin finds the energy inside of him to scoff at that suggestion. Like he would be able to stomach just lying in his room and doing nothing again. At least lying in the middle of the lobby and doing nothing is less cramped and familiar. Also, even if he did think he was up to reenacting his past, the rooms in this motel lack a certain something that he _needs_ to slip into a nap.

“The rooms don’t have any plants,” he mumbles. He can go to sleep for the night just fine, but naps are special. Naps require a gentle ease, a soft lull, a pleasant atmosphere. It’s why he almost always naps outside.

“Hmm,” Jonghyun says, and that’s all he says on the subject. He stays almost uncharacteristically silent as he tugs Taemin’s sugar packet from his fingers and opens it over his strawberries himself.

Two months and one week later, Taemin shuffles into room fifteen and throws his bag onto the floor next to his bed as the sun sets outside of his window. He runs his fingers through his hair, weary from the extra long ride, and stares at the little potted fern on his bedside table for a solid minute before he realizes what he’s actually staring at. He pauses, then leaves his room to peep into Kyuhyun and Changmin’s room on the left, and then into Kibum’s room on his right, and then Sunny and Amber’s room across from him.

All three have new little potted plants next to the beds.

He smiles.

 

2  
Jonghyun should’ve listened to Taemin.

He _told_ him like, a month ago, that the Reese’s cups always get stuck in the vending machine. Jonghyun doesn’t know why he even tried. Now he only has himself to blame as he aggressively whacks the side of the machine. Fumbling with his work keys, he squints at all of the little numbers. He doesn’t know if he has the vending machine key that will let him just open the thing up and grab it for himself. He still doesn’t even know who restocks this thing. If he did, he would’ve just gone and asked them where they keep the extras.

He’s sighing dejectedly and resolving to go find his sister to ask when he hears a low rumbling from down the road. That distracts him from his current quest and he turns to squint through the front windows instead. That might be Taemin. He wasn’t out back or in his room earlier, so Jonghyun figured he just went out to the town instead with a few of the others. Though… that only sounds like one bike. Hmm. He slides up to the glass so he can get a better look when the biker rolls into the parking lot.

Yep. That is Taemin’s mint green accented bike and Taemin’s jet black helmet. Jonghyun smiles, glad to see him. Maybe he’ll have an extra few dollars to get another Reese’s and hopefully knock the first one down with it. They can share and it’ll be totally cute. Jonghyun glances quickly back at the vending machine to make sure no one is trying to snipe his candy and then back out front just in time to see someone else behind Taemin on his bike.

He does a doubletake, then squints, surprised. Who the fuck…? He doesn’t know why one of the other bikers wouldn’t take their own bikes. Taemin’s passenger has their own helmet, though, so they can’t have been just a friendly hitchhiker or something. But--Jonghyun squints closer--that helmet is familiar. Dark green stripes. That’s _his_ helmet. What the fuck. In the time it takes for him to get really fucking confused, Taemin stops in the corner of the parking lot and his passenger slips off. Jonghyun presses himself up against the window even more to see who exactly it was from here that thought they could take his helmet and his boyfriend out for a ride without asking. He watches as they stumble a little bit and then pull off his helmet to reveal blue bangs.

Or, more specifically, Aqua Turquoise Mist bangs.

“What the fuck, Kibum,” he mumbles. At least he can stop worrying about someone with a gross, weird, sweaty head wearing his helmet. It probably smells like bubblegum shampoo now--but that’s not the point. Outside, Kibum hands Taemin the helmet and says something, nodding and looking positively giddy. Taemin shrugs in response in his usual lazy way, mumbles something quickly back, and offers a little wave before rolling the rest of the way into the garage. Jonghyun stares at Kibum through the window for the whole fifteen seconds it takes him to walk up to the door, and then, when Kibum pulls it open, he shifts to stare at him up close and in person.

“Excuse me,” he says accusingly, ignoring how Kibum pretends to be startled like he didn’t see Jonghyun at all. “What were you doing with my boyfriend on my boyfriend’s bike with my boyfriend in town with my boyfriend?” He doesn’t think he said “my boyfriend” enough in there. He feels like he just really needs to emphasize that part, and how if Kibum said literally anything at all to Taemin that would embarrass Jonghyun then they’re definitely going to have some problems. Kibum tsks at him, fluffs up his hair, and shrugs innocently.

“I just happened to overhear him, during breakfast, talking about how he needed to pick something up from the mechanic’s place,” he says loftily. “And I ever-so-generously offered to show him the way there.”

_“Oh_ \--” Jonghyun takes a deep, deep, deep breath, lifts his hands up, and lets it out so fucking slowly because he’s never been more done with his best friend in his life. “My god,” he continues, turning away from Kibum to walk out a circle. “Oh my fucking god.” Kibum is just. So fucking incredible. He doesn’t know whether to laugh or sigh again, for the rest of his life. He turns back around and walks back to Kibum, who’s still acting innocent and sweet. “Tell me you didn’t just stare at--Taemin--” He reaches out and grabs Taemin’s wrist as soon as Taemin slouches through the front door. Taemin jumps, surprised, and then pretends like he didn’t. Jonghyun barely even notices. “Taemin,” he says again, “did he just stare at Minho the whole time?”

“Um,” Taemin says, pushing his hair out of his face, looking between the two of them slowly. “Is Minho the tall one with the fire tattoo around their bicep?”

“Oh my fucking god,” Jonghyun says again. Incredible. Kibum really was. He literally got Taemin to drive him all the way down there just to peep at his crush for five minutes. Jonghyun reaches up to shoo Taemin’s hands away and fix his headband up himself. “You didn’t even talk to him, did you?” he asks Kibum accusingly. For the first time, Kibum’s cheeks flush a darker pink than his blush.

“What is this, twenty questions?” he snaps. “He was busy. I didn’t want to bother him.”

“He’s such a mess,” Jonghyun says, turning to shake his head at Taemin. Kibum huffs, mumble something about Jonghyun just staring at Taemin four years ago, and grumps away back towards the kitchens to prepare for lunch. Jonghyun snorts. Like they’re even comparable in the same category. At least Jonghyun _talked_ to Taemin on the third day. Kibum literally always just hangs around and doesn’t say anything and acts like he’s not totally obvious in his staring. He doesn’t even have anxiety like Jonghyun does.

“Uh… huh,” Taemin says slowly. He pushes Jonghyun’s hands away from his face and shakes his hair half back into his eyes. “I brought food,” he mumbles, holding up a warm, slightly greasy paper bag. Jonghyun gasps, excited. Food. Nice. He vaguely remembers being hungry before Kibum distracted him with all of this. He grabs both the bag and Taemin’s hand, tugging him over to the little sitting area in the corner to snuggle and eat and talk about Minho.

Ten minutes later, he remembers that he was supposed to ask Taemin to buy another Reese’s when he sees someone else walking away from the vending machine with two.

“Shit,” he mumbles into his fries. Kibum totally owes him a candy now.

 

3  
There’s a significant lack of bikers rolling into the parking lot right now, Jonghyun thinks. He presses up against the window of room twenty, squinting down below to count. Three. There’s three: Kibum, the dark and quiet one; Jinki, the leader; and Taemin, the new boyfriend. Or... relatively new. Do several months count as new? Jonghyun isn’t sure. He thinks it should count, since their collective boyfriend time together still hasn’t even surpassed a few weeks. Or, well--does time spent together not as boyfriends still count as boyfriend time if Jonghyun was into him for all of it? Or would that be weird?

He blinks when he notices his vision starting to go blurry. That doesn’t fix it and he frowns, confused for a moment, before he realizes that it wasn’t his eyes slipping out of focus. It was his breath fogging up the glass. He pulls away from it, taking his eyes off of the bikers that were distracting him. Shit. That’s embarrassing. He grabs the window cleaner from his cart to quickly wipe down the window a second time. He wants to finish this quickly now she he can go and ask Taemin… not how long he counts them being together, but… fuck. What was he thinking about before? Ugh. He’s been way too busy lately. He’s grateful that there’s only a small handful of bikers this time, to be honest.

Oh. The bikers. Right. Jonghyun gathers up the rest of his cleaning stuff and drops the last decorative scented pinecone basket thing onto the dresser before he heads out to put everything away. He wants to finish this shit up quickly before he forgets what he wants to ask Taemin about again.

When he gets down to the lobby, he realizes that he missed the three checking in at the front desk. He curses softly to himself and diverts his course to the break room, and then to the garage through the employee door. That’s where he finds them: Kibum and Jinki already wandering out of the garage, and Taemin still working his bike into a good position facing the exit. He slips up to the latter and reaches out to gently tap his elbow with one hand, the other curling into the side of his cleaning apron. One day he’s going to stop feeling anxious before talking to his own boyfriend, he knows it.

“Hey,” he says softly when Taemin turns around. Taemin’s lips twitch up just slightly at the corners, which make Jonghyun’s curve up his whole face. Taemin is totally glad to see him.

“Hey,” Taemin mumbles back. He turns fully to put a hand on Jonghyun’s waist and press their lips together. Jonghyun sighs happily into the kiss, pressing just close enough that he can shift his hand from curling into his shirt to curling into Taemin’s. Taemin sucks ligtly on his top lip when he tries to pull back the first time, which makes him hum and depen it again. He doesn’t think he’s ever going to get tired of kissing Taemin.

He breaks the kiss a few seconds later, though, reminding himself firmly to not forget what he came in here for.

“Where’s…,” he starts, still kind of in a daze from Taemin’s lips, “Where’s everyone else?” He gestures at the other two lonely looking bikes by the wall. “Where’s Amber and… the others?” Wow. He really thought he knew more names. He’s certain that there are other names that he just can’t remember right now. He has to know more than four. Taemin shrugs, reaching behind him to pull his bag off of the back of his bike.

“I don’t know, Christmas?” he says. “I don’t think we normally come here, but….” he trails off with another shrug, a squeeze of Jonghyun’s waist.

“I… Christmas,” Jonghyun says to himself. _“Holidays._ Fuck.” He didn’t even notice. He’s been so busy taking care of the rush of people on holiday that he didn’t even notice that there were so many people coming through because they were on holiday. He can’t believe he didn’t--he just spent like, two hours leaving every clean room with the same most December generic pumpkin-spice-and-cinnamon scented pinecones they use every year and somehow it didn’t register in his mind. Holy shit. He needs more sleep. Maybe he’ll sleep in a few extra minutes tomorrow morning.

He shakes himself out of his thoughts and focuses his attention back to Taemin. Taemin looks back at him blandly, blonde hair falling into his face. Jonghyun smiles and reaches up gently to fix it for him.

“No holidays for you?” he asks hesitantly. Now that he thinks about it, he doesn’t think he ever has seen the gang around here this late into December. He always assumed that they all spent some time at home, but apparently not.

“What?” Taemin asks. He tilts his head at Jonghyun’s question, obviously confused. “What are you talking about? I’m Christmas as fuck.”

“...Are you?” Jonghyun asks. He looks Taemin up and down quickly. He’s still just… dark clothes, chipped nail polish, messy hair. He looks about the opposite of Christmas, to be honest. He also looks offended at Jonghyun’s disbelief, a tiny frown pulling at his lips.

“Uh, excuse me,” he says, “have you even seen my bike?” He shuffles a little bit to the side and gestures between the handlebars of his motorcycle. Jonghyun looks, and then lets his eyes slide shut and takes a slow, highly amused breath so he doesn’t burst into giggles.

“Oh,” he says after a moment. “I see.” He sees now, how Taemin is obviously-- _obviously-_ -”Christmas as fuck” with a little Santa hat taped to the dash of his bike. It even has a little felt mistletoe sewn on. “My mistake,” he grins, reaching over to nudge the festive little hat into a better position. Taemin tugs his hand away, then laces their fingers together, then tries to pretend like he didn’t just rub his thumb fondly over the back of his hand and tugs him out of the garage. Jonghyun follows, still amused about Taemin’s Christmas spirit.

“What about you?” Taemin grumbles when they get back into the lobby. “Where’re your Christmas decorations? Where’s the tree?” He flaps a lazy hand around the room where things are admittedly the same as usual, with the addition of some scented pine cones and pretty lace trim on the front desk. Jonghyun gives Taemin a shrug of his own.

“Not everyone celebrates Christmas,” he says. He barely even celebrates it. Neither he nor his sister are really religious types, and he doesn’t remember his parents being too big on it either. Usually the two of them just use Christmas Day as as good of a day to give each other winter presents as any. He squeezes Taemin’s hand as he’s tugged back up the stairs and to room fourteen, trying to remember his original point before he forgets it. “People of other faiths, or like, no faiths, don’t want to deal with the crushing oppression of Christianity on their vacations.”

Taemin stops, halfway up the stairs; Jonghyun almost walks into him. He catches himself just in time to be fucking _mortified_. Fuck. He just called Taemin’s literal religion “crushing” and “oppressive.” Like, it’s not like he’s wrong, but _fuck._ One hundred percent not needed to make his point and now Taemin is offended. He takes his hand away from Taemin’s to curl it into his apron again.

“Um--I’m--I’m sorry,” he says quickly, feeling heat rising in his cheeks. “I didn’t mean to--I was just--Santa is a lovely concept--”

“Good point.”

“What?” Jonghyun barely brings himself to bring his eyes back up to Taemin’s when Taemin takes hold of his hand again. Taemin gives him this weird little look that’s part shrug, part nod, part eyebrow raise. Jonghyun isn’t sure which point Taemin meant was good; he made a few. Taemin doesn’t elaborate and instead just continues up the stairs. Jonghyun should probably tell him that he has more work to do downstairs, dinner to clean up after. Instead, he bites his lip while Taemin fiddles with his room key. Did he mean the oppressive part? Probably not. It probably wasn’t the Santa thing, either, since Jonghyun doesn’t even know what the fuck he was talking about with that, so it must have been the people-of-other-faiths thing. Right? Who the fuck knows.

“I still got you a Christmas present, though,” Taemin mumbles, letting go of Jonghyun’s hand. He tosses his bag next to his bed in a gentler way than he usually does and turns to sit on the edge. “Because… you know.” He tugs on Jonghyun’s wrist instead until Jonghyun is lowering himself into his lap, still red-faced about the religion thing. At least he bought Taemin a winter present the last time he was at the mall. He has no idea where he left it, but he knows that has it. Taemin wraps his arms around his waist, then leans backwards until they fall back onto the covers. “Can you sleep with me?” he asks.

“Oh… um,” Jonghyun says. He’d love to, but really can’t. Not now. He shifts on Taemin’s hips, trying to think of a good way to put it. After a few moments of him struggling, Taemin fits his hands over his sides and pushes him up a little bit.

“Okay,” he hums. “Go back to work. I’ll be here.”

“Ahh. Okay. Um. Yeah.” Jonghyun leans down and presses the tiniest of kisses to Taemin’s lips, then wiggles off of him. “I should be done… soon,” he says. And then he’ll be back to snuggle Taemin to sleep. They’ve only done it like, twice, and Jonghyun isn’t about to let some general humiliation stop him from nuzzling his boyfriend for a third time. Taemin probably doesn’t even care about his slip of the tongue as much as Jonghyun thinks he does. He leaves the room before he can think about it any more and get too embarrassed again. Then, almost immediately, he darts back inside.

“Uh--” he starts, trying to get through his question before it makes him blush any more than he already is. Taemin is in the middle of taking off his loose t-shirt; He pops his head out of the collar, hair mussed and black undershirt riding up on his stomach. Fuck. Jonghyun thinks he should just stop trying to not blush at this point. It’s not going to happen. “Um,” he starts again when Taemin looks at him with a sleepy little hum. “What… day is it?” he asks. He doesn’t know how much of December he’s zoned out on.

“Twenty… somethingth,” Taemin mumbles. He tosses his shirt carelessly onto his bag with a shrug. “Not the twenty-fifth yet.”

“Oh.” Oh, good. Jonghyun will figure out the specifics later, but at least he hasn’t missed it completely. “Merry, um. Merry early Christmas.” He smiles weakly at Taemin from the doorway; Taemin gives him a tiny smile back.

“Happy holidays,” he says.

 

4  
“Alright, kid, you can put your shirt back on.”

“Mmh.” Taemin looks up from where he was inspecting this totally rad gun guitar they gave him to pose with. To be honest, he was barely even posing as much as just looking at it. It’s cool as fuck. “Am I done?” he asks, trying to find the manager of this photoshoot. He said this would be the last set of pics, but he wants to make sure. He gets vague nods from several different people behind the lights and cameras, so he takes that as a solid yes and lifts up to his feet. Passing the guitar to a prop person, he shuffles to the little curtained off area where he left his clothes and changes back into his own pants, then wiggles into his shirt. Then he slouches back out to continue his search for the manager, using his natural lazy slowness as an excuse to linger without looking like he doesn’t know what the fuck he’s doing.

Luckily, the dude finds him yawning over by the table where the free orange slices are.

“Hey, kid, good--here. Thanks for helping out.” He hands Taemin an envelope; Taemin takes it gratefully.

“No problem,” he shrugs. He likes getting quick modeling gigs like this. They’re just an hour or two of his time for some small amounts of money. He was wandering on his own in the mall when he got pulled into the place next door to the cinnamon roll place for this one. It’s not one of the more professional photoshoots he’s been a part of (“Hey, kid, c’mere--are you over eighteen?” “Yeah, why?” “Wanna come do a quick photoshoot?” “Uh, sure.” “Great. Read this form, fill it out, sign at the bottom.”) so he’s not really expecting much as he opens the envelope to peek inside. Twenty-five, probably, maybe fifty, or-- _“Four_? Hundred? Dollars?”

He looks up at the manager incredulously, then looks back down to make sure he’s counting this right. Yeah, that’s… that is four one hundred dollar bills in there. Holy shit. He can’t even pretend like he doesn’t give a shit about this. He was surprised to be holding an actual _glass_ of water during a quick break earlier instead of a paper cup, and now he’s holding four hundred dollars in cash. What the fuck.

“Are you--sure?” he asks the manager, thumbing between the bills. It’s not even a staggering amount, compared to his life savings, but to just have it all dumped on him at once for a simple model job is what’s leaving him so fucking gobsmacked. This seems just… overly generous. This is just a half-ass shoot in a quiet little mall. They didn’t even let them play with the bubbles earlier because it would ruin his “aloof” aesthetic or whatever.

“Yes?” the manager says, confused at Taemin’s confusion. “It’s what you agreed to.”

“I did?” Taemin asks. He doesn’t remember that. He would have remembered four hundred dollars.

“Yeah, right here.” The manager holds up the paper that Taemin himself filled out less than three hours ago and points to the price section where it does, in fact, say that he would be paid four hundred dollars.

“Holy shit,” Taemin mumbles, squinting at it.

“Did you even read the contract?” the manager asks. He squints also, except it’s directed at Taemin. Taemin stuffs his hands into his pockets so his guilty clenching hands don’t give him away.

“I mean, well,” he says. He skimmed it. Jinki’s been telling him not to do that; Taemin figured it was to protect him from scams, not shit like this. “I did, yeah. Expensive clothes, any damage is my fault, all rights go to you, blah blah blah, I won’t be put in adult media, something about a magazine? And four hundred dollars.” He really should read these things through all the way. Just getting the overall gist of things isn’t enough, apparently. The dude cocks a brow at him, then hands Taemin the clipboard again with a pen.

“Anyway,” he says, “initial here to confirm that I paid you the money that you knew you were getting.”

“Um, yeah, sure,” Taemin says, scrawling his mark on the line. He’s let go after that, shooed out of the little store and into the people wandering around the mall. He stands there for a moment, still kind of dazed. Four hundred dollars. Holy shit.

He needs to find Jinki.

He stuffs the envelope into his pocket, too paranoid to move the bills to his wallet here. A quick glance at his watch tells him that it’s almost one. Jinki should be at the food court by now, so he heads there.

He’s gone three stores in the wrong direction before he realizes his mistake and turns around. Ugh. He shouldn’t be nearly this anxious about this. It’s just four bills. They might as well just be four ones. Four very, very, very expensive ones.

When he finds Jinki standing in line to the sushi place in the food court, he latches on to his elbow immediately and presses up against him.

“Jinki,” he mumbles, tugging at his jacket even though Jinki’s already turned to give him his attention. “Jinki, look what I just got.” He slips the envelope out of his pocket and opens it up to show Jinki his earnings. _His_ earnings. Suddenly he’s giddy about it all, proud of himself. He earned this money. All by himself. Yeah. He’s so damn cool.

“Are those hundreds?” Jinki asks, lifting his eyes from the envelope to meet Taemin’s grin. He sounds impressed and disbelieving; Taemin grins even wider and nods. Jinki’s eyebrows raise into his hair. “Where’d you get that?” he asks. Taemin pushes him gently up a space in line.

“Photoshoot,” he says happily. Immediately, Jinki’s look of wonder turns to exasperation. He rolls his eyes with a fond little sigh.

“How do you always manage to just _get_ model jobs like this?” he asks.

“Because I’m hot, obviously,” Taemin says. He’s a little offended that Jinki even had to ask. Jinki snorts at his reply and rolls his eyes a second time.

“Obviously,” he agrees. Taemin chooses to ignore the sarcasm in his voice. He slips the money back into his pocket, then nudges Jinki’s shoulder again.

“Can you buy me fries, please?” he asks. Standing here in the middle of the food court has made him realize how hungry he is. He was trying to get a cinnamon roll before he got called in to do that photoshoot. Now he gestures with his elbow towards the fast food place a few stores down. Jinki doesn’t give him an answer right away; he frowns at Taemin, poking his jacket pocket accusingly.

“You literally just got four hundred dollars,” he says flatly. Taemin sighs, mildly guilty. Okay, yeah, that is true, but still.

“I don’t want to break a hundred for some two dollar fries,” he whines. “Please, Jinki?” He squeezes Jinki’s shoulder pleadingly and leans his weight up against him. Jinki surveys him for a long moment, then rolls his eyes and tugs him up in line.

“Fine,” he says. Taemin hisses in victory.

 

5  
“Anyway, here’s wonderwall.”

“Minhwan, no.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“Don’t even start.”

Taemin cracks an eye open at the groans of everyone else sitting around the little campfire in Luna’s backyard. He wouldn’t have bothered if Jonghyun hadn’t elbowed him in the stomach sitting up straighter to voice his discontent too. He grunts, putting his hands on Jonghyun’s waist to steady him in his lap.

“Oh--sorry,” Jonghyun says quickly. He presses a little kiss to Taemin’s cheek; Taemin smiles. That’s better. Then Jonghyun turns back around and Taemin leans an inch to the left to see around him. On the other side of the fire, Minhwan has somehow managed to get a hold of Sungmin’s guitar and is trying to figure out where to put his fingers. Oh. Oh no. This won’t be good.

“Don’t do it,” he says, even as Minhwan starts plucking at the strings. It sounds horrid. Taemin doesn’t even know the song, but he can tell that Minhwan barely knows the chords either. Everyone else agrees, if the second round of groans means anything. “You’re a _drummer_ ,” he says, louder than before. A drummer that’s never been allowed to even touch his bandmates’ guitars because he sucks so badly. He feels his lips tugging up as Minhwan continues on with his atrocious song, willfully ignorant of their complaints.

“That meme was like, last _year_ ,” Jonghyun adds. Everyone else nods at that as well, like they’re all in on a big joke that Taemin doesn’t know about. He frowns. That happens sometimes, and everyone seems intent on not letting him in on things. Jonghyun, though. Jonghyun would tell him.

“What the fuck is a meme?” he asks, poking Jonghyun’s side. Jonghyun turns to him, eyes wide.

“You don’t…?” he asks. He seems absolutely fucking bewildered. Taemin feels as confused as he looks and shakes his head.

“No? What--”

“Don’t tell him,” Amber says sharply. Taemin shoots them a frown. See. They don’t even try to hide it. What the fuck. “He’ll never shut up about them.”

“About _what_?” Taemin huffs. This is just, supremely unfair, but the rest of their little campfire group is nodding in agreement.

“He still hasn’t given up the ‘do he got a booty’ meme,” Jinki sighs. Taemin breaks his frown to giggle.

“He dooooo,” he grins. He loves that picture.

“Oh my god,” Jonghyun says. “That’s from like, five years ago.”

“You got a booty,” Taemin says, slipping his hand down to touch Jonghyun’s butt. Then he pauses. “What do you mean, _five years ago_?”

“Don’t tell him,” Amber repeats firmly.

“Tell me,” Taemin whines, squeezing Jonghyun’s waist. Jonghyun glances between him and the rest of the group quickly, then leans back into his shoulder with a little shrug.

“Maybe later,” he says. Taemin humphs. Maybe later his ass.

Across the fire, Changmin yanks the guitar out of Minhwan’s hands mid-badly strummed chord.


	5. five times some more shit happens idk lmao (M)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “We’re taking my bike next time,” Taemin grumbles, “I can’t do this anymore.” He doesn’t care if he’s thirty-something years old and “should” be able to handle half an hour in a car without getting queasy.

****1  
“Okay… you ready?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yeah.”

“Like, you’re sure you’re sure? And ready? And you want this? And you’re sure?”

_“Yes,_ Jonghyun, fuck. I told you the first time.”

Jonghyun looks up from where he’s knelt between Taemin’s legs, raising his eyebrows at his grumpy pout. He’s just making sure. Taemin was the one that brought it up, yeah, but he’d been hesitant and Jonghyun was sensing some reluctance even while Taemin’s dick was halfway down his throat. Taemin continues to frown at him, lips bitten, hair mussed, loose t-shirt pushed up halfway where Jonghyun was too lazy to pull it all of the way off. He licks his lips and grins when Taemin spreads his legs wider with a defiant little humph, like he thinks Jonghyun’s care is unnecessary. Well, okay then. Jonghyun leans forward and presses a kiss to Taemin’s knee, another against his thigh, a third low enough to make Taemin’s breath hitch.

“I’m gonna do it,” he says, grabbing the lube from behind him and popping the cap. Taemin wiggles his butt further down towards him impatiently and Jonghyun shakes his head fondly. He takes Taemin’s cock back into his mouth and sucks slowly, moving his tongue along the underside in the way he likes, as he wets his first two fingers and rubs them against Taemin’s hole. Taemin is relaxed enough; it’s easy for Jonghyun to press the tip of his pointer finger in to the second knuckle. He rubs his thumb in soothing circles over Taemin’s hip with his other hand and pulls further up on his cock before he goes further, lapping greedily at the single drop of precome that beads at the tip. “Good?” he asks, glancing up to read Taemin’s face as he slips his finger in and out slowly. Taemin has his eyes shut, hand fisted in his own hair and teeth digging into his bottom lip. It’s a hot look, but not exactly his regular sex look.

“Fine,” Taemin says after a moment, letting it out in a short breath. Jonghyun cocks a brow and takes his finger almost all the way out. He doesn’t _sound_ fine.

“Are you--”

“Jonghyun,” Taemin says loudly enough to make Jonghyun jump. “Will you just fucking-- _trust me_ when I tell you things?” Ooh. Now he’s getting huffy. Jonghyun laughs softly, kissing the tip of his dick in apology.

“Sorry,” he says, dripping more lube onto his fingers. He teases the rim of Taemin’s hole with little circles and then pushes all of the way in. Twisting his finger slightly, he crooks it up and moves slowly, both fucking Taemin with it and searching for his prostate at the same time. After a moment--

“Jonghyun--Jonghyun, stop, I don’t--” Jonghyun moves his hand before Taemin can slap him away, wiping his fingers on his sheets with a roll of his eyes. Taemin’s knee falls to the side to rest on top of his other one, blocking Jonghyun from even trying to finger him again, not that he would. “I lied,” he mumbles, pulling his shirt up to cover his face. “I’m not fine.” He sighs behind the fabric and Jonghyun finds himself doing the same, albeit much more amused, resting his chin on Taemin’s leg.

“I mean, I asked,” he says. “Multiple times.”

“I know,” Taemin grumbles. “I didn’t want…. You were so eager to…. I don’t know. I should’ve….” He trails off with a another grumble. His hand flaps around for the covers; Jonghyun leans back and hands him the corner to tug over himself. Then he stays back, frowning at himself as he caps the lube again. _Should’ve. He_ should’ve stopped earlier. He knew Taemin wasn’t doing well, knew he was lying, and he should’ve stopped _before_ it got to be too much. He shouldn’t’ve been so “eager” to get into Taemin’s ass. He should’ve--”Are you blaming yourself?” Taemin asks suddenly. Jonghyun blinks, looking up the bed; Taemin is peeking at him from under his shirt, brows furrowed. “You are,” he says. “Stop that.”

Jonghyun opens his mouth, then closes it. What the fuck would he say? “No, I won’t stop feeling bad about everything always even if I’m given permission to?” That hardly seems mature.

“I wasn’t, like, hurting you, was I?” he asks instead. Taemin snorts.

“No, it was just… fucking weird,” he says. “I don’t know how you like that so much.” He rolls over to his side and curls up into a grumpy little ball of a twenty-six year old, something that greatly amuses Jonghyun. He has a point. His first time fingering himself wasn’t exactly stellar either. He was able to work passed it; obviously Taemin couldn’t. Anal isn’t for everyone, Jonghyun guesses. He also guesses that Taemin doesn’t want him to finish even sucking him off or anything, and Jonghyun isn’t exactly living in Boner City right now, so he just crawls up the bed to sit next to him and smile pleasantly.

“Do you want your pants back?” he asks after a moment, grinning at the dark sweats lying on the floor next to his own shirt. Taemin blinks slowly at him, wiggles under the blankets, and creeps one little hand out, making grabby motions that make Jonghyun grin even wider.

 

2  
“Hey… Jinki?” Taemin nudges Jinki’s side as he’s looking over his menu and Jinki hums to show that he’s listening. “Can you get me a strawberry daiquiri, please?” Jinki actually looks up at that, turning to frown at Taemin incredulously as he looks up at him in question.

“You literally just turned seventeen a month ago,” he says flatly. Last time he checked, seventeen is four solid years under twenty-one. Taemin puts his elbow on the table of this fancy ass restaurant and props his cheek up in his hand, sighing shortly.

“I know,” he mumbles. Then he perks up. “But I’m curious and I read that letting kids try alcohol in a safe environment under supervision is much healthier and safer than having them try it on their own with whatever they can get their hands on.” He bats his eyelashes at Jinki innocently; across from him at the table, Amber snorts and brings their hands up to muffle giggles. Sunny and Minah do the same and Jinki frowns at them for encouraging Taemin before looking back.

“Are you threatening to get drunk on moonshine behind my back?” he asks. Taemin opens his mouth, then closes it.

“Um,” he says, “no?” He looks more disappointed that Jinki saw through his shitty persuasion attempt than guilty, so Jinki only squints at him for a moment before letting that go.

“No,” he says anyway, and Taemin’s face falls into an even more disappointed frown.

“Why not?” he whines. “I wanna know what it’s like.”

“Just let him have a small one, come on,” Sunny says, reaching over to tap the item on the menu. “He’s not gonna get drunk off of half a cup of watered-down rum.”

“No,” Jinki says again, even more firmly than the first time. He thinks they’re missing the point here. He’s fine with Taemin trying alcohol if he wants to; what he’s not fine with is him trying alcohol _here_. “This is a nice place,” he says, gesturing at the restaurant they’re in. “I don’t wanna get kicked out over a daiquiri.” They’d probably notice even if he got one for himself and just let Taemin have a little sip. He doesn’t want to take that chance.

“Oh,” Sunny says. “Yeah, yeah, okay.” She leans back in her seat and shrugs at Taemin. “Sorry, little dude.”

“Mmmgh,” Taemin grumbles. He slumps down in his chair, grumpy and defeated. Jinki snorts and shakes his head. What a big baby. He reaches over to push Taemin’s hair out of his face.

“We’ll get you drunk at Kyuhyun’s place next time we’re there,” he shrugs. Taemin looks at him with half a grimace.

“With his weird wines?” he asks, sounding less than enthusiastic.

“Hey!” Kyuhyun calls out to them from four seats down of their big table, from where Jinki has no idea how he even heard what they were talking about. “My wines are great.”

“You’re not even supposed to get drunk on wine,” Sungmin adds, frowning at them from around Kyuhyun’s shoulder. “You’re supposed to appreciate it.”

“I’m not letting him _get drunk_ off of my shit. It’s expensive as fuck.”

Jinki looks at the pair of them down there for a moment, offended and huffy, and then shakes his head, turning back to his own menu. He forgot what he even wanted to order. And he also forgot how obnoxious those two were about their weird wines.

“I have rum at my place,” Sunny says after a moment. “I usually just drink it straight up, but I can make you a daiquiri.”

“Hmm. Kay,” Taemin sighs. Jinki shakes his head fondly. _Kay._ Like he’s not overjoyed on the inside. “Can you get me a virgin daiquiri?” he asks hopefully as their server comes up to take their order. Jinki sighs.

“Fine,” he says. He’ll get Taemin some expensive fruit juice. At least without the rum it’s relatively healthy.

 

3  
Jonghyun is smirking over in the driver’s side of the car, and he’s smirking at Taemin’s grumpiness about being smirked at. Every time. Every single time he has to get a ride in Jonghyun’s weird, quiet, smooth ass _Prius_ is so much worse than any other car he’s ever been in. And regular cars unsettle him enough. He humphs at Jonghyun’s amusement and turtles himself even more down into his jacket, glad that they’ve turned onto the road to the motel finally. Soon this hell will be over, for a few hours a least.

“We’re taking my bike next time,” he grumbles, “I can’t do this anymore.” He doesn’t care if he’s thirty-something years old and “should” be able to handle half an hour in a car. He can’t do it. _What if the kids want to go somewhere_ his ass. Jonghyun can borrow his sister’s car and Taemin can just kind of follow along on his bike. The boogers like when he turns it on anyway. He’s not visiting Jonghyun for a month to spend half of it feeling gross and queasy from a weird car ride. Jonghyun takes his eyes off of the road for a second to glance at Taemin (which disturbs Taemin greatly) and chuckles.

“Sure,” he shrugs. Taemin humphs at his simple acceptance. He’s far too amused by all of this. He's really going to frown at him later, but for now, he feels blessed when Jonghyun finally pulls into a spot in front of the motel. He’s out of the car in two seconds, taking deep breaths and shivering out his weird feelings. Ugh. He fucking hates cars. “You okay?” Jonghyun asks, slipping up next to him and rubbing his back. Taemin groans, but nods.

“I am immediately getting better,” he says. “C’mon.” He tugs Jonghyun inside, again ignoring the way he smirks. Of all of the things that Jonghyun feels bad about, the one thing that Taemin actually _wants_ him to feel guilt over just amuses him.

Inside, Taeyeon is lounging behind the desk like usual, picking off whatever little designs she painted on her nails yesterday to keep herself from biting them instead. She perks up when she notices the two of them approaching, though, a familiar smile spreading over her features.

“Hey, Tae,” Jonghyun grins, leaning up against the counter. Taemin mumbles his own greeting, still not feeling exactly one hundred percent.

“Hey, ex boss,” Taeyeon says. Taemin doesn’t even need to look to see the way Jonghyun’s ego grows at the reminder that he used to be in charge of her, even if it was just to train her to do some of the shit that he used to do. “Hey other Tae,” she says next, quirking a brow at Taemin. Taemin huffs in offense.

“I was the first Tae,” he grumbles. _“You’re_ other Tae.”

“He’s right,” Jonghyun agrees, faking a stern little frown. Taemin smiles like he always does when Jonghyun supports him like this against this imposter of a lady. “Anyway,” Jonghyun says, waving away their previous conversation. “Sodam?” he asks.

“And the boogers?” Taemin adds.

“Alpha boss is out getting eggs because the kitchen ran out again, I’m assuming Joy and Irene are in their floor,” Taeyeon shrugs. Then she turns to face Taemin, blinking innocent eyes up at him. “Junghee and Gwiboon coming soon?” she asks, fluttering her eyelashes like she thinks it’ll make Taemin more willing to give her information on her girlfriends after she tried to one-up him like that less than a minute before. Taemin rolls his eyes, thinking back to the group’s schedule anyway. If they dropped him off here two weeks ago, and they’re coming back in two weeks, then that’ll be… another week after that? Maybe? Until they all come here again.

“I don’t know, a month?” he shrugs. Taeyeon pouts.

“That’s so long,” she whines, flopping over the desk dramatically. Taemin snorts. Like they don’t all hang out together enough between visits. He thinks about telling her that it might actually only be three weeks, then decides against it. He’ll let them surprise her.

“Hey, c’mon,” Jonghyun says, tugging on his elbow. Taemin hums, looking down; looks like Jonghyun’s been texting his sister while he was talking with Taeyeon. “Sis says we can go see the kids,” Jonghyun says, bouncing lightly with excitement. Taemin smiles himself. Oh, good. Irene totally owes him fifty cents from a bet they made last time he was here. He forgot what the bet was about, but he remembers that he still needs his two quarters. He waves at Taeyeon as Jonghyun tugs him behind the stairs to what used to be his floor. He unlocks the door, then tugs Taemin further down the hallway until they reach the little bead curtain the kids set up a year back.

“Knock knock,” Jonghyun sings, running his fingers along the curtain to make it make the noise. Immediately, Taemin hears the kids scrambling up from whatever they were doing.

“Uncle Jonghyun!” Joy’s voice says as they burst through the bead curtain, and then, almost immediately after, “ _Biker Uncle!”_ Both of them completely skip over Jonghyun in favor of glomming onto Taemin instead, something Taemin is both extremely smug about and extremely overwhelmed by, like usual. He doesn’t remember six-year-olds being so big.

“Oof,” he says, sitting down against the wall before they knock him over again. “Hey, boogers.” He looks up at Jonghyun’s offended gasp, grinning even wider. Ahh, yes. Sweet revenge.

“What about Real Uncle?” Jonghyun pouts, crouching down and poking at the kids’ sides. Taemin sighs happily. He loves being the favorite.

 

4  
“Jinki, hey, it’s me Taemin, your favorite child, calling from the security office on the south beach. Ha ha. Jinki, ol buddy….”

Jonghyun winces as the lie leaves Taemin’s lips again into the phone. He’s not trying nearly hard enough, Jonghyun thinks. He realizes that his tone and the way he’s saying it are meant to be lighthearted, like he’s reminding both Jinki and the security guard hovering over him that he’s just a kid so please go easy on him, but Jonghyun really doesn’t think that Taemin should be joking around like this right now. He is more than certain that the punishment for lying to authority is higher than the one for having a little fire on the beach after sunset. He still can’t believe that the guard just _believed_ Taemin when he said that they were both still seventeen, no questions, not even a request to see some sort of ID as proof. They really shouldn’t be allowed to be a guard, being this lax.

“Hmm? No, we’re fine, just, you know, we got into a little trouble, on the beach.” A little trouble and Jonghyun is feeling more anxiety than he ever has in all twenty-five of his years. Taemin told him not to say anything, but Jonghyun doesn’t think he could even make his voice work enough to accidentally blurt out a truth. This is horrible and he hates it and he just wants to cry, and he squishes himself into the corner of the bench he’s waiting on and takes breaths as deeply as he can. He doesn’t want another panic attack already. His head feels hot anyway. “Uh, well, _technically_ , no, a beach security guard can’t _arrest_ us, but as _caretaker_ for us _minors_ you still need to come pick us up.”

Jonghyun avoids the security guard’s glance, looking down at the hands he’s twisting in his lap. He’s not exactly glad, but he is thankful that Taemin told her that he has anxiety. At least she’s leaving him alone.

“Yeah, I started a little fire again,” Taemin says, and Jonghyun doesn’t like the grin on his face. This is not a good time to be acting all fond and reminiscent. “But I mean, it was perfectly safe, like, was the _sand_ going to catch fire? I don’t--” He stops short to listen to Jinki on the other line; his smile starts to leave his face. “I know you told me to stop, but I wanted to show Jong--” He cuts himself off again for a few seconds, then frowns, brows furrowing. “I’m not _blaming_ him, I’m just trying to expl--” Silence again for a longer moment and his face twists into a scowl. “Look, Jinki,” he snaps, “I know you’ve told me before but what the fuck is yelling at me _now_ going to do? I’m already in trouble, aren’t I?”

Jonghyun feels his stomach dropping lower and lower as Taemin and Jinki keep arguing over the phone. All he wanted was to spend some time on the beach with his boyfriend. They were having such a nice time. He _did_ mention something about fires not being legal, but Taemin waved him off and said he did it all the time. Jonghyun should’ve pressed more, should’ve really told Taemin not to do it. This is his fault.

“Yeah, well, Jinki, I fucking did,” Taemin is huffing into the phone now. “And I am, so are you going to come pick us up or what?” There’s silence for just a moment, and then Taemin scoffs, rolling his eyes. “Fine,” he mutters, and then, “I said _fine,_ Jinki. No fucking shit we’re going to stay here. Where the fuck else could we possibly--” He takes the phone away from his ear and squints at it in confusion, and then disgust. He slams it back onto the receiver with an angry noise, turns around and paces a few short steps, running his fingers through his hair. Jonghyun makes an educated guess and assumes that Jinki hung up on him. The security guard looks a little dazed at that whole conversation, but she catches Taemin’s eye on his third turn and looks at him expectantly; Taemin huffs and fixes his jacket more around his shoulders.

“He’ll be here soon,” he mutters. “Our motel is twenty minutes away.” He grumps to the bench and sits down heavily next to Jonghyun, crossing himself up like a pretzel. Jonghyun only realizes that he’s started crying when Taemin turns to him after a minute with a frown that turns into an expression of genuine concern and says, “Shit, you’re crying.”

“A-am I?” he asks, lifting a shaky hand to feel tears on his cheeks. Oh. Look at that. He is. How lovely. He thinks the realization makes him cry even worse. He feels like he’s going to throw up.

“Hey, don’t,” Taemin says soothingly, like Jonghyun can just _stop._ He reaches up with gentle hands and thumbs away tears with his sleeve, leans forward and presses a little kiss to his cheek. “This is my fault,” he mumbles. “I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you somehow, just….” He sighs and scoots forward to wrap his arms around Jonghyun and kiss his cheek again. The way he’s acting so uncharacteristically sweet and affectionate, so not like himself, just makes Jonghyun feel worse. It’s also not even fully Taemin’s fault and he’s still trying to take all of the blame. Guilt rears up inside of Jonghyun even more than before.

The low rumbling of a bike comes after the longest twenty minutes Jonghyun has ever experienced. At least he’s stopped crying. It grows louder until it’s just outside and then cuts out, and then a few seconds later Jinki pulls open the door, looking pissed. Jonghyun shrinks more into his corner as Taemin lifts his hand in a tiny wave. Jinki shakes his head at him before he heads up to the desk to speak to the guard.

“You’re his adoptive father?” she asks, shuffling through the paperwork that details how exactly the two of them fucked up.

“Yes,” Jinki says shortly, throwing another frown at Taemin. Taemin just scowls in reply. The security guard pulls out a paper for Jinki to look over.

“They had a fire on the beach,” she says tiredly, “and were also there three hours after sunset, both of which are illegal. But since they’re both minors, and since It’s late and I don’t want to be here, I’m just gonna give them the minimum fine of three hundred dollars and then you can go. No court dates or anything.”

Jinki’s glowering intensifies at their “light” fine (“Ha ha, shit,” Taemin whispers) and he pulls out his checkbook from his pocket. Jonghyun doesn’t think the fact that he already came in prepared to pay a fine is the most comforting thing.

“Here,” Jinki says, writing out the check quickly and handing it over, then signing the paper she gave him. “I’m sorry for the trouble.” He turns halfway to glare at Taemin, and then turns to the door and walks out without a word. Oh. Taemin grabs Jonghyun’s hand and tugs him up, tugs him after Jinki.

“Um, goodnight,” he tells the security guard like they haven’t already ruined it for her. Jonghyun shivers when they step outside into the night, wrapping his jacket tighter around himself as he follows Taemin to the bikes. Before Taemin can even get on, Jinki grabs his collar and yanks him away.

_“What the fuck were you thinking?_ ” he hisses. Taemin struggles to get free, pushing at Jinki’s hands with a glare to match. “I _told_ you, I’ve told you so many fucking times to _stop-_ -what do you think I _say_ this shit for, Taemin? To be a whiny uptight piece of shit?” He lets go of Taemin’s shirt but leaves wrinkles in the fabric, hands clenching at his side. “You’re paying me back those three hundred, and the gas money to get down here,” he snaps. “ _And_ it’s almost fucking midnight and you got _him_ in trouble too--” he points a finger at Jonghyun, who winces, not liking being brought up like this--“And you’re _lucky_ they didn’t check your license.”

“Wow, alright, Jinki, I get it,” Taemin says, fixing his shirt. “I’m a huge fuckup. Whatever. Let’s just fucking go.” He gestures down the road angrily. Jinki scoffs, swinging a leg over his bike.

“Yeah. Right. Let’s go back to the motel,” he says, “where you’re going to stay for the rest of the week. You don’t leave that fucking building, Taemin.”

“Excuse m--”

“You heard me,” Jinki says, even louder than Taemin’s own raised voice. “You’re grounded.”

“I’m not a kid,” Taemin snaps, stepping up to frown in Jinki’s face. “How are you going to make--”

“Don’t give me any of that shit right now, Taemin,” Jinki cuts him off with a raised hand. “I’m not dealing with it this time. I’m not. _You_ wanted to pretend like you were a minor, _you_ wanted me to come all the way here and drag your ass out of this mess, _you_ wanted me to fix all of your problems for you again, so now _you_ can fucking deal with my rules and my punishment. You do _not_ get to pick and choose when to act like you’re adopted to fit what’s most convenient for you.”

Taemin puffs up after Jinki’s words, lifts his hands, lowers them back to his jacket and grips tightly with a low grunt of frustration.

“ _Fine,_ ” he hisses. “Whatever.” He turns a complete 180 and gets onto his own bike. Jonghyun, who’s still standing on the curb and trying to act like he’s not awkward as fuck watching these two argue, shuffles slowly towards Taemin’s bike as well, now that he can. He just wants to go to sleep. He’s getting his hands on the back of the seat to help himself up when Jinki snaps and says his name loudly enough to make him flinch.

“With me,” he says shortly, pointing at the back of his bike. Taemin scoffs quietly without looking back at Jonghyun; Jonghyun hesitates, glancing between them again. Oh.

He nods quietly, so small and nervous compared to the way these two were just shouting at each other. He slinks over to Jinki instead, trying not to take too long in getting onto his bigger bike.

“You’re in trouble too,” Jinki tells him, frowning over his shoulder. Jonghyun grimaces and looks away. Fuck. “You’re just as guilty as he is,” Jinki continues. “I’m fucking responsible for you right now and you think a fire on the beach is a good idea? What would I have told your sister if you’d actually gotten arrested, Jonghyun?”

Jonghyun thinks he’s crying again. He feels guilt and shame and fear and regret and it’s all so much that it’s making him numb. He tries to open his mouth to apologize, or at least to say _something_ , but he can’t make anything come out.

“Hey, let the fuck up,” Taemin snaps from his bike. Jonghyun peeks at him with a mix of gratitude and more guilt; Taemin continues to frown at Jinki as he hands Jonghyun the helmet that Jonghyun was going to forget to put on. “He knows. _You_ know he’s panicking more than enough about this already. Don't make it worse.” Jonghyun winces another time as Taemin points out something he would rather not be mentioned, pulling the helmet over his head and fastening into into place. In front of him, Jinki huffs shortly and puts on his own helmet.

“Let’s go,” he mutters, and then he starts up his bike before either of them can drag out this conversation any longer. Jonghyun hears Taemin following soon after and he sighs as he rests his head on Jinki’s back. At least he should be able to stop crying again in the twenty minutes it’ll take them to reach the motel. He’s certain that both Jinki and Taemin are driving faster than they normally would be if they weren’t pissed and that doesn’t soothe him at all. He shuts his eyes against the dark shapes that blur passed the edges of the road and breathes as deep as he can, telling himself that Jinki wouldn’t let his anger influence his responsibility.

It doesn’t work half as well as he hoped it would and it’s with shaky legs that he gets off of Jinki’s bike in the parking garage. Taemin is at his side in a second, an arm around his waist and soft lips against his cheek when he lifts his helmet off.

“Come on,” he mumbles, tugging Jonghyun inside. In the hallway, they pass Minhwan and Amber, who stop and stare at them, at Jinki behind them; Jonghyun feels his face heating up under dried tears and Taemin scowls at them, tugging him closer. “What the fuck are you looking at,” he growls, pulling Jonghyun further down to their room. He jams his card key into the slot and shoulders the door open, leaving Jonghyun’s side once they’re inside and flopping face-first onto the bed. He lies there for a moment; then he groans and gets to his knees so he can pull off his skinnies and bulky jacket. Jonghyun shuffles quietly into the bathroom.

He sighs when he sees himself in the mirror, red eyes, blotchy cheeks, bitten lips, mussed hair. This hasn’t been one of his best days. He washes his face off, brushes his teeth quickly, changes into his own pajamas from the bag he has sitting on the sink. Then he shuffles out of the bathroom and to the bed, where Taemin has left the covers down for Jonghyun to crawl in next to him. When Jonghyun does, Taemin turns to him and wraps around him, nuzzling his shoulder and squeezing him tight in what Jonghyun can only describe as aggressive cuddling.

“I hate when he’s angry and right,” he mumbles. Jonghyun pushes him back gently so he loosens his death grip a little bit, but holds him before he can let go completely.

“I was….” He swallows thickly, realizing that this is the first time he’s spoken since they were caught. He doesn’t even know what to say. What he decides on probably isn’t what he should have, but he says it anyway. “I was having fun… before we….” He swallows again with a little shrug. Taemin laughs a soft little laugh that seems more forced than anything.

“Me too, Jonghyun,” he says. Then he sighs. “I’m sorry.” He presses more kisses to Jonghyun’s temple, his hair, his cheeks, rubs his side gently, and whispers a quiet, “I love you.” He doesn’t even blush. Jonghyun shifts a little uncomfortably. This is… weird. Never before has Taemin been this lax with his usual lazy persona. It’s like it’s not even there at all. Jonghyun likes it--he likes the affection, the kisses, the honesty--but he doesn’t like the circumstances for it, or the heavy way Taemin sighs out his words. He pushes his complaints away for now, though. He doesn’t want to fall asleep thinking about too much negative shit. He can save this one spot of happiness from being ruined.

He slips his arm around Taemin’s waist and wiggles closer until he can nuzzle his neck and brush his lips against his skin. He still smells like the beach.

 

5  
Taemin is just getting off of his bike when gentle hands appear on his waist. He starts, then relaxes immediately once he realizes that it’s just Jonghyun. He turns to meet him with a little kiss but Jonghyun glances around the rest of the garage first to make sure it’s empty. Taemin smiles lazily, amused. He’s never really stopped being kiss shy. He’s still wearing the “Booty Babe” bracelet Taemin got him at the mall for his twenty-second birthday a few months back though, and Taemin grins wider as he fixes it into a better position. Best thing he’s ever bought.

“Hi,” Jonghyun hums once he’s sure that they’re alone, leaning up to press their mouths together. Taemin hums nothing in particular back as he fits his hands on Jonghyun’s hips. He lets Jonghyun turn them around, but pulls back and cocks a brow when Jonghyun hops up onto the seat of his bike.

“I have to put all of my shit in my room,” he says, even as he lets Jonghyun pull him in between his spread legs. He can’t stand out here and make out for half an hour. Jonghyun sucks on his bottom lip, kisses his jaw, nuzzles up to his ear.

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” he murmurs, “but…. I guess you can’t tell, but I’m super fucking hard for you right now.” He tugs Taemin closer by his belt loops until Taemin has to brace himself on the wall behind him. “And I want you to fuck me on this bike.”

“Oh,” Taemin breathes. He wasn’t in the mood before, but Jonghyun can certainly get him there if he keeps this up. He feels up his pocket for his keys slowly, savoring the way Jonghyun’s fingers slip under his shirt and his lips suck a hickey just under his ear. He got his room key at the same time as his parking pass; it doesn’t really matter _when_ he gets all set up in there. His room will still be there in an hour or two. He gets his hand under Jonghyun’s chin and moves him so their mouths meet again, breathing in Jonghyun’s soft moan. He pulls back both too soon and not soon enough.

“Wanna,” he says, and then licks his lips. “Wanna go get ice cream, kid?” he asks. He’s not entirely sure when “get ice cream” became codeword for “bang behind that one billboard halfway down the road,” but it definitely did somewhere along the line. Jonghyun nods immediately, whispering little “yes”s and wiggling to sit on the back of Taemin’s bike. Taemin gets on in front of him. He hands Jonghyun his helmet and starts the bike simultaneously, not wanting to waste any time. Jonghyun shudders a little harder than usual when the bike rumbles to life and Taemin grins, heading out the way he came in less than five minutes ago.


	6. some more shit including junghee minjung and gwiboon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What are you thinking about?” Jonghyun asks softly. Taemin cracks open one eye to glance at him, then closes it again with a tiny shrug.
> 
> “Praying,” he mumbles.

****1  
Jonghyun stops writing his little memo to himself for later very suddenly when he realizes why the song someone is playing on the lobby piano right now sounds so familiar. It’s his. It’s literally his song. It’s Love Belt. Fuck, he hasn’t heard that tune since he stopped advertising his first little album everywhere over three years ago. That is definitely his song, though; he remembers the notes, the harmony, the endless rewrites and retouches and crumpled music sheets that brought it to life. He looks up quickly to find out who exactly it is that one, knows his song, two, knows it well enough to be able to play it on the piano, and three, likes it so much that they want to actually _play_ it in the middle of this lobby.

At the piano he finds a leather jacket, thick boots, and a long, light brown ponytail. He raises his eyebrows. That’s Junghee, the younger of the two new bikers that have joined Jinki’s group this year. Short and dark and loud and buff. Jonghyun isn’t too familiar with her yet, but he is more familiar with her than he is with Sungjong because she’s closer to Taemin, and also because he always has to shoo her away from flirting with Taeyeon while she’s supposed to be working. He thinks shes one of those famous instagirls, making vines and posting weekly videos to youtube or whatever. At any rate, he feels like he knows her enough that it wouldn’t be weird to go over there and ask.

She’s still playing as he shuffles over, glancing over his shoulder to make sure no one is going to come up to the front desk during the few minutes this should take. When he reaches her, she’s just getting into the chorus and Jonghyun gets hit with a wave of nostalgia and comfort and slight desperation and all of the emotions that he poured into this song from his heart while he wrote it. Fuck.

Instead of interrupting Junghee, he sits gently next to her on the piano bench. She jumps at his sudden presence (Jonghyun smiles apologetically) but quickly catches on to how he’s trying to find the right position on the lower notes of the keyboard. She scoots over a little bit so Jonghyun can be more comfortable with her own little smile. There’s only a few seconds’ pause before she starts playing again and Jonghyun picks up after her, and then, there’s only a few more seconds before he takes a breath and sings.

He’s not loud; never loud, not with this song. This song is soft and gentle, meant to be sighed out over hot mugs of coffee and through rainy, fogged up windows. The lyrics carry him through the song in a mellow flow, just like he planned and perfected, and it’s easy for him to get back into the feel of it like he’s been performing it every weekend out back again.

What surprises him is when Junghee starts to sing with him. She sings the parts Younha sang when he first recorded it, taking over her part of the duet Jonghyun didn’t know they were sharing with ease. He voice isn't the same as the original, but Jonghyun definitely wouldn’t call it _bad._ She definitely goes lighter and breathier when she sings than her normal voice, like Jonghyun does, and she doesn’t even blink at any of the notes. Jonghyun is impressed.

When they finish, she adds a little extra flair of notes on the piano that makes Jonghyun snort, then reaches up to tug at her ponytail and fix it. After, she turns to face him on the bench, brings her knees up to her chest, and rests her chin on them with a little grin.

“I totally forgot that that was your song,” she says. Jonghyun laughs. That makes sense, considering she wasn’t even around when he first came out with it. That raises another question for him, though, one that makes him tilt his head curiously.

“How did you even learn it so well?” he asks. How did she even _find_ his shit? Junghee snorts at that, shaking her head fondly and tugging her phone out of her pocket.

“Taemin made everyone buy Base on iTunes,” she says. “Your second album, too. And I did, like….” she holds the phone up to show Jonghyun all of his songs, all official and special and not pirated or anything. “But, I mean… no offense, dude, but your stuff isn’t really my style. I only ever listen to Love Belt.” She shrugs apologetically; Jonghyun is a little disappointed, but he doesn’t hold it against her. His soft, dreamy songs aren’t exactly biker-esque material. And even if he did want to frown at Junghee about it, he wouldn’t be able to; not with this new piece of information.

“Taemin made you?” he asks, trying not to grin so hard. He made _everyone_? Junghee snorts with a roll of her eyes.

“Yeah, everyone has your stuff on them,” she says. Jonghyun feels his smile growing wider, growing as large as the swell of his heart inside of him. He never knew. Junghee looks up from her phone at his silence; then she blinks, looking down and looking guilty. “But, uh,” she says quickly. “Pretend I didn’t tell you. I think that was supposed to be a secret, like, one of his ‘I’m pretending to be a piece of shit but I actually kinda like you’ secrets, you know?”

“Yeah, I know,” Jonghyun chuckles. He definitely knows. He glances behind them at the door to the backyard, where Taemin is outside right now taking a nap. He is one hundred percent going to go out there later and flop all over him. For now, though, he looks back at Junghee, still curious. “What kind of music do you like?” he asks her. A voice like that, how she was able to memorize Jonghyun’s song.… Jonghyun’s been dabbling in some other styles lately. Maybe they could record something together. At his question, Junghee’s lips curve into a wide smile.

“Funky party shit,” she says. “Like, you know SHINee? Punch Drunk Love and Love Like Oxygen and Ayo, I really like those.” She leans forward a little eagerly; Jonghyun gasps softly. He fucking loves Ayo. He could totally put together a little something like that, or she would probably be down to just do a cover of that with him. He likes her so far. She reminds him a lot of himself when he was younger and just gaining his confidence, except she has it already and has no problem showing it off.

 

2  
“No--hey--easy,” Taemin says, reaching out to put a hand on the back of the seat and steady his bike when Jonghyun wobbles a little. “Keep your feet up or keep them down. Don’t get all indecisive in the middle.”

“I don’t _mean_ to,” Jonghyun pouts. He gets both feet on the ground and releases the clutch slowly, then turns to pout at Taemin with big eyes. “I just--it’s freaky.”

“Look,” Taemin sighs, pushing his headband further up and then reaching to push the visor of Jonghyun’s helmet up as well where it was slipping down again. “It’s okay if you’re not ready for this yet. We can go back to the walking thing until you really find your balance and--”

“No, no, I can do this,” Jonghyun insists. “I’m just. Psyching myself out. One more time.” He turns to face forward again, takes a breath, and lets the clutch out. Taemin watches, ready to help, as he slowly, slowly, slowly tugs the throttle back until he’s riding in a straight line at a glacial pace. His feet come up to to the rests and stay there, no hesitating, no suddenly trying to find the ground again. Taemin smiles as he walks alongside Jonghyun as he putts across the parking lot in front of the motel. He’s getting it.

“Both brakes at the same time,” he reminds Jonghyun when they get to the left curb. Jonghyun nods, easing the bike to a stop. He wobbles a little, but gets one foot down at a time and doesn’t topple over, which is good. Taemin doesn’t want to have to get his bike all busted up trying to haul it off of his boyfriend, and he also doesn’t want to have his boyfriend all busted up by his bike. That would be bad too.

“Told you I could do it,” Jonghyun grins once he’s steady again. Taemin snorts at him. A smug little dingus, all proud that he rode a bike across a parking lot. Still, he did tell Taemin and he was right. He’s doing well for his first try. He reaches up to shoo Jonghyun off for a minute with a little grin.

“Lemme turn it around,” he mumbles. He doesn’t think Jonghyun is really ready to try turning yet. Jonghyun complies easily, wiggling off of the bike and letting Taemin on instead. Taemin turns it quickly, lines it up nice and even facing the opposite end of the parking lot, and gets off again. When Jonghyun takes his place, he looks just as giddy and excited as he did the very first time Taemin offered to give him a ride four years ago.

 

3  
“Alright nerds, listen up.”

Taemin scrunches his face at Jinki’s voice. He was almost asleep, damn it. He sighs as he opens his eyes against the afternoon sun and hauls himself up so he’s sitting at this picnic table at the lake instead of sprawling all over the bench and taking up space. Junghee snorts at him from the other side of the table and he makes a face at her before squinting around to find Jinki. He’s standing under the shade of a big tree, which Taemin is thankful for, because if he was standing anywhere brighter he would’ve just stopped paying attention. Jinki is also standing with someone else with perfectly winged eyeliner and a side buzz cut and longer black hair on the other side. Gwiboon. Huh. When the fuck did she get here.

“This is Gwiboonie, genderfluid between agender and demigirl, model, lives in the apartments across the street… but all of you already knew that because somehow she knows everyone,” Jinki continues. Gwiboon grins a smug, proud little smile and Taemin snorts. It’s hard to not know her, to be honest. Taemin met her last year when Junghee introduced them and shoved Taemin onto a photoshoot with her on the other side of the lake. He has no idea how Junghee knew her in the first place, but he assumes that Gwiboon demonstrated the same skill of talking like they’d been friends for years already on her as she did on him. It worked surprisingly well. Taemin doesn’t think just anyone could’ve pulled that briskness off. “And if no one objects,” Jinki is saying, “she’s gonna be riding with us not this month, but in June?” He turns to frown questioningly at Gwiboon and Taemin turns to squint questioningly at him. What.

“Summer and Fall,” Gwiboon says, talking first to Jinki and then to the rest. “I model Winter clothes so I have to come back then for shoots and I’m allergic to everything on this planet so I’m not going anywhere during Spring either.” She makes a grumpy little face and Jinki smiles sympathetically at her for a moment, then looks back to the rest.

“New club member to be picked up next time we’re around here,” he says, patting Gwiboon’s shoulder gently. “No objections?” he asks, and Taemin finds himself nodding in vague agreement before he catches himself and shakes himself back to his thoughts. What the fuck. She can’t come with them. Sure, she’s experienced on a bike and a member of the club and has money and is comfortable with everyone, but--

“She’s like, ten,” he blurts out. Everyone turns to look at him and he curses internally. Fuck. He didn’t mean to say that out loud.

“I’m eighteen,” Gwiboon tells him. Eighteen. What the fuck. That’s so young. _Junghee_ was young when she joined last year at nineteen. This hardly seems responsible.

“Taemin, you were sixteen,” Jinki says flatly. Taemin opens his mouth, then closes it. Wait. Sixteen. _Sixteen_. Twelve years ago. He doesn’t--

“What the fuck, Jinki, I was like ten,” he frowns. He doesn’t believe this. How could Jinki have let him in when he was so fucking young? If he thinks more on it, he doesn’t believe _himself_ , either. He’s getting so distraught over how young he was _then_ like he’s fucking old _now_ or something. This distresses him greatly. He can’t be old. He’s only twenty-eight. Why the fuck is he feeling so old? This is not okay. Jinki looks at him for a moment, then shakes his head with a fond little roll of the eyes.

“Any objections from someone that’s not having a midlife crisis before they hit thirty?” he asks. Snickers come from the rest of the group and Taemin pouts, putting his chin in his hands. He’s not having a midlife crisis. He’s just. Upset about how old-but-not-old he is and how fast time has gone by and if he got this old without realizing it what’ll happen to the rest of his life and--fuck. What the fuck. He fumbles in his pocket for his phone to text Jonghyun and ask if he’s had his midlife crisis yet because he could really use some help with his own.

 

4  
Taemin doesn’t greet Jonghyun when he slips into his room after finishing up work, which is weird for several reasons, one of them being that he _did_ shout back when Jonghyun called to him when he first entered his floor. Jonghyun figured he would ignore that first one and mumble a greeting this time instead, not the other way around. He’s all snuggled up in bed when Jonghyun peeps at him, but he can’t have fallen asleep so quickly. Or this early. It’s barely even nine. If Jonghyun looks closer, he sees that he’s not; even though his eyes are closed, he’s still twiddling his thumbs together over his chest. Hmm. He slinks forward, lowering himself to his knees on Taemin’s side of the bed and resting his arms on top of the covers.

“What are you thinking about?” he asks softly. Taemin cracks open one eye to glance at him, then closes it again with a tiny shrug.

“Praying,” he mumbles. Jonghyun blinks. That’s not something he expected.

“You pray?”

“Sometimes, yeah. I’m Catholic, aren’t I?” Well, yeah, Jonghyun knew that, but he’s still intrigued. Taemin never really struck him as the praying type. He looks Taemin up and down, all bundled up in the covers, and cocks a brow.

“Don’t you have to be kneeling to pray?” he asks.

“Look,” Taemin says, lazily moving his hand to poke Jonghyun’s cheek. “There’re people _dancing_ and shit while they pray in the bible. God doesn’t give a shit if I want to be comfy while we talk.” He brings his hand back to clasp again with the other one. Jonghyun snorts, turning his head to rest his cheek on his elbow as he watches Taemin pray. He doesn’t know why this is so interesting.

“What do you pray for?” he asks curiously. Taemin is still for a moment and then he sighs and shrugs again.

“Just… stuff,” he murmurs. “Luck. Health. Jink--that one lost kitten I saw at the beach two years ago.” He shrugs for a third time and Jonghyun grins at his too-late coverup of Jinki’s name. He let Jonghyun catch him caring about someone. That makes him think, though, and he nuzzles into the bed of his arms until he’s peeping at Taemin with just his eyes exposed. Should he ask? Or would that be too pushy? He doesn’t want to seem selfish. Though to be honest, if he doesn’t ask it’ll bug him forever. He watches the way Taemin’s lips move minutely like he’s almost whispering the prayers out loud to himself but not.

“Do you pray for me?” he asks quietly. Taemin sighs again; this time it’s more of a short huff of breath. He turns his head and opens his eyes to look at Jonghyun with a little frown.

“I won’t if you keep interrupting me,” he grumbles. Jonghyun takes in his grumpy little expression and giggles. He should feel bad, but he'd caught onto the “if” part of Taemin sentence. That means that he does pray for Jonghyun, if there’s a reason for him to stop. Jonghyun doesn’t even try to fight the slow grin that spreads over his face.

“Sorry,” he says, leaning close to give Taemin a little kiss. Then he stands up. “I’m gonna go wash up. Finish your thing.” He pats Taemin’s shoulder and leaves for the bathroom, feeling special and important and cared about.

 

5  
Jonghyun feels like he really should not get as excited over motorcycles as he does. Like, yeah, they’re a fetish and everything, but he still feels like he shouldn’t be about to cream himself just from four minutes of riding down the road behind Taemin. He blames Taemin; he’s the reason Jonghyun is so worked up in the first place. There he was, just trying to get a snack during his break, when Taemin rode in with the rest of the gang with his leather jacket and mussed hair and dark eyeliner and shit. Five minutes later and he’d already agreed to drive right back out the way he came with Jonghyun wrapped around him. This is Taemin’s fault, or at least, that’s what Jonghyun tells himself as he takes deep breaths, curls his fingers into Taemin’s shirt, and fights the vibration of the seat underneath him. He’s just… so hot.

The tacky billboard for the farm on the outskirts of town comes into view down the road after what seems like an eternity, makes Jonghyun shudder just thinking about the last few times Taemin has fucked him there. It’s not so much about the public aspect--he really couldn’t care less about that kink--but more about how secluded it is. People hardly ever come down this road around this time, and if they do, there are a few wild bushes to hide them from the side. It’s a place where Jonghyun can get off on both his boyfriend and his boyfriend’s bike where they won’t be walked in on.

When Taemin turns off of the road, circles around the bushes, and stops just behind the sign, Jonghyun can’t have his helmet off fast enough. He fumbles to stuff it halfway into the bag still attached to the back of Taemin’s bike. He thinks it falls off when Taemin stands up and he wiggles himself to sit with his back to the sign instead.

Taemin just straight up drops his helmet when he takes it off, and it rolls a few times over the dirt as he steps forward and cups Jonghyun’s face, eyes dark. He kicks the kickstand down without even looking and pushes their mouths together, rough and uncoordinated, fitting himself between Jonghyun’s legs with ease. Jonghyun groans into his mouth and tugs him closer by his jacket collar when he realizes that Taemin isn’t even going to turn his bike off and tease him into begging like usual. He must have gotten all worked up from how Jonghyun was all over him on the way here. Jonghyun chooses to be grateful; he doesn’t think he could stand having to prolong this boner any longer than he has to.

Taemin moves off of his lips to kiss at his jaw and then down to his neck, sucking light red marks that probably won't turn into hickeys. Jonghyun leans his head on the back of the billboard and moves one arm around Taemin’s shoulders. He moves his other hand down to feel up the front of Taemin’s pants, opening his eyes to look down at what he’s doing.

Then he does a doubletake, squinting back up through his bangs because there was something there that didn’t match the tall grass and low sun on the horizon. When he realizes what it is, he almost jumps off of the bike.

“Fuck--fuck, Taemin--!” He pushes urgently at Taemin’s body, tapping his shoulder and his side and trying to turn him around as the motorcycle cop’s eyebrows raise under their dark sunglasses. Jonghyun doesn’t think he’s ever lost a boner faster.

“What-- _shit,_ ” Taemin hisses after he looks over his shoulder. He steps quickly away from Jonghyun and straightens up; Jonghyun wiggles clumsily off of the bike because he really doesn’t think he can deal with both this and the vibrations at the same time. “Ha ha, hey, officer,” Taemin says. He coughs into his shoulder and clears his throat when his voices comes out a little cracked. Jonghyun does his best to smile through the anxiety bubbling up in his stomach as he scoots half a step behind Taemin. Holy shit. They’re gonna get arrested and go to jail. He slips his hand around Taemin’s arm and holds him close to steady his shaking as the officer walks up to them, thick boots, strong jaw, mildly terrifying. He’s not good with authority figures. They make him stutter and cry.

“What are you kids up to, huh?” they ask casually, their killer red lipstick outlining their words clearly. Jonghyun shuffles guiltily. He wouldn’t exactly call himself a kid, at twenty-two. Taemin, maybe, a month away from twenty. Taemin obviously sees this as an advantage and rolls with it, shrugging his shoulders and running his free hand through his hair.

“We were just, you know, going to get some ice cream,” Taemin says, shrugging innocently. He nudges Jonghyun’s side. “Right?” he asks, and fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. Jonghyun is supposed to back him up, to lie to the cop, to say actual untrue words to an actual authority figure. Oh no, oh no oh no oh no. He feels heat rising dangerously quickly in his face and he squeezes Taemin’s arm tighter before it makes him so woozy that his vision blurs.

“U-um,” he says, “yeah, um. Ice cream. I-is what we were doing, and that’s n-not, like. Code for any--anything. We weren’t--we weren’t sneaking back here to have se--”

_“Actually,”_ Taemin says loudly, cutting Jonghyun off before he can continue fucking this up. Jonghyun scoots even further behind Taemin to try to hide his shame. Fuck. He doesn’t even know how those words found their way out of his mouth. The cop’s brows raise even higher and Jonghyun can feel his soul shriveling. He never wants to speak to a police officer again. It’s a miracle that he hasn’t reached a full on panic attack yet. He’s all sweaty and shaky and gross and he feels like if they get even a tiny bit aggressive with them he’ll faint. He’s too young for the slammer. Taemin finds his hand to give him a gentle squeeze before he speaks again.

“Actually, Officer…,” Jonghyun watches him squint for a second at their nametag, “Choi,” Taemin reads, straightening up again. “We saw you here, on our way to the town, and I wanted to stop and tell you that there is a pothole. In the road. A mile or so down that way.” He points back towards the motel; Jonghyun tries not to look too impressed with how quickly he came up with that excuse. It’s not even a lie. There are several potholes in the road down there. “Because I know you’re interested in the public safety of the roads and whatnot,” Taemin continues, “and the expenses of the city, and a pothole could raise the price of repairing the road more and more the longer it goes unreported. Right?” He sounds so different from normal; he’s bright, peppy, friendly, smiling a charming smile that’s vaguely reminiscent of Jinki’s at Officer Choi. It unsettles Jonghyun, but as he peeps at the cop from behind Taemin’s shoulder, he can see that it’s actually working, if the way their lips quirk up a tiny fraction mean anything.

“Have I pulled you over before?” they ask, tilting their head quizzically. Jonghyun blinks. _Have_ they? He turns to gauge Taemin’s reaction to that. He’s not entirely sure that being recognized by a cop is a good thing.

“Um,” Taemin says, and then Officer Choi pulls off their sunglasses to reveal a gorgeous set of dark brown eyes. Almost immediately Taemin’s face lights up in recognition. This time when he smiles, it’s genuine and relieved. “ _Oh_ ,” he says. “Officer Choi, hey, long time no see.” He holds his hand out to shake theirs; They take it with a wide grin to match. Jonghyun is suddenly very confused.

“You keeping your dad out of trouble?” Officer Choi asks. Taemin laughs as he nods, shoving his hand into his pocket easily. Jonghyun isn’t sure if the anxiety he’s feeling right now is coming from the fear of being arrested or the fear of having to be friendly to someone he doesn’t know. He’s not good with new people. He just wants to be confused about what kind of trouble _Jinki_ could have possibly gotten into in peace. In a weird way, it’s kind of relaxing him; at least the attention is off of him.

“Keeping him in line, yeah,” Taemin grins. “One time he almost littered but I stopped him and everything.”

“Well, good,” Officer Choi laughs. “Thanks for reporting the pothole. I’ll let you get back to your ice cream.” Their eyes flick to Jonghyun with an amused smile; Jonghyun shrinks even more behind Taemin. He’s glad they’re not being intimidating anymore but there’s a little hint of knowing in that smile that still makes him uneasy. And it’s his fault because he’s the one that half blurted out the thing about having sex. Ugh. Taemin smiles bright and gives a cheery wave with one hand, his other hand gently turning Jonghyun around to pick up his helmet.

“Thanks, officer,” he says, snatching up his own helmet. When Jonghyun wiggles his leg back over the bike he remembers that Taemin never did turn it off. It’s weird getting settled with it rumbling under him and he latches on to Taemin as soon as he gets on. As he revs the bike and steers it around the bushes, Jonghyun spares a glance back at the cop. Their sunglasses are back on but they’re still smiling as they watch. Jonghyun takes several deep breaths and manages to give them a friendly wave before Taemin gets back onto the road and speeds away. He feels like his first encounter with a cop could’ve gone worse.

He’s still not entirely calm by the time they get to the ice cream shop. He kind of falls into a chair at the corner table and rubs his hands over his face, pushes back his hair, takes deep breaths and tries to calm his heart enough so that he can’t feel his pulse throughout his whole body anymore. After a few minutes, he hears Taemin sitting in the seat opposite of him and looks up.

“Here,” Taemin says quietly, pushing a small cup of vanilla cake batter ice cream at him. Jonghyun takes it gratefully, pokes at it with his little pink spoon, and takes a tiny bite, more for the coolness than for the flavor. He’s not feeling exactly hungry.

“Don’t ever make me talk to a cop again,” he says miserably. Taemin winces a little bit over his own large bowl of color.

“I know, I just,” he mumbles. “I wasn’t… thinking.” He really does look apologetic and guilty, eyes big and open instead of hooded and guarded like usual. Jonghyun gives his best attempt to twitch his lips into a tiny smile of thanks for that apology and looks back to his ice cream.

They sit in silence for another few minutes while Jonghyun struggles to regain his composure. They weren’t arrested. That’s good. And his boyfriend being friends with a cop is probably a good thing also. He glances up at Taemin to see if he’s settled back into his usual lazy attitude yet. He thinks Taemin being snapped out of that was making him anxious as well. Taemin is focused on his own ice cream, nudging his little pair of green gummy bears closer together on the side of his bowl. It makes Jonghyun snort in spite of the tiny bit of shakiness that lingers in his hands. What a fucking nerd.

“What did Jinki get in trouble for?” he asks after another minute. Taemin’s lips curve into a tiny smirk around his spoon.

“Speeding,” he says. “But don’t tell him I told you. He still gets grumpy that I saved his ass from a ticket.” He laughs softly to himself and Jonghyun finally feels a real smile pulling up his lips. He can imagine. “Are you okay?” Taemin asks then, looking at him with hooded but serious eyes. Jonghyun hesitates for a moment, then nods. He’s not a hundred percent yet, but he’s better, which is good.

“I don’t think I want to have sex anymore,” he admits, pouting. His dick is nowhere near hard and he’s not even close to in the mood. Damn. He was really looking forward to that.

Taemin rolls his eyes.


	7. idk what to put here anymore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Remember when you used to blush at things?” Taemin asks. “Like, I would say something, and you would get all blushy, and it was really cute.… That was nice.”

****1  
“Curse me, curse me for letting go…. My… collapsed heart is… screaming? Don’t… leave… don’t throw? Kibum,” Jonghyun frowns, looking up into the mirror where Kibum is brushing grapefruit (pink) dye into his bangs. “’Don’t throw me away, don’t leave me alone’ or ‘don’t leave me alone, don’t throw me away?’”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Kibum asks.

“I’m _writing,_ ” Jonghyun says. He holds up his phone to show Kibum the doc he has open with the lyrics typed out. “You know, songs?” His life’s passion? To be a musician? Like, yeah, he had to put it on hold for a little bit, but he would have thought that the four and a half years of being in a music club and the whole full album he came out with last year would be pretty obvious. He performed shows in the city, got into the local news, literally spent three months singing in the motel _while_ Kibum was _there_ … kinda hard to miss.

“Okay, yeah, but,” Kibum says, giving him this _look_ in the mirror that Jonghyun doesn’t appreciate at all. “What kind of angsty ass heart-wrenchingly painful bullshit are you _writing_? I thought you just did like. Love songs.”

“Well, maybe I’m broadening my horizons, ever think about that?” Jonghyun huffs. He can write about other things. His life doesn’t revolve around cavity-inducing sap. He totally has a dark, mysterious past to write about. He’s not making this specifically angsty just to win a bet down at the club or anything. It’s completely natural and coming from his soul. Kibum rolls his eyes and brushes more pink into his hair.

“‘Don’t throw me away’ first,” he says. Jonghyun hums in thought and looks back down at his phone. Yeah, that makes more sense. He rearranges the lyrics and makes a note to go write out that correction later. He feels more accomplished when he can see his editing in crumpled papers and scratched out lines rather than a revision history list online. “How long has your dye been in, by the way?” Kibum adds. Jonghyun blinks, looks up at him, and then checks the time on his phone.

“Uh,” he says, “Forty-three minutes?” He reaches up to gently touch his damp hair. It’s finally grown out from the undercut that bugged him so much so they’re back to experimenting with colors again. Kibum says his hair should turn out pretty red and he is pretty excited about it. He wipes his hand on the towel around his neck before he starts tapping through his phone again. Kibum hums over by the sink, dabs a few more spots in his hair, and then puts his dye brush down.

“Time to wash it out, then, I think,” he says, snatching Jonghyun’s phone out of his hand and tossing it on the counter.

“Hey,” Jonghyun whines, squinting at it to make sure there’s no pink on the case. “You _think_?” he adds next, squinting at Kibum instead. Kibum shrugs, tugging him over to the shower and sitting him on the rim of the tub.

“I mean, the box says half an hour, but leaving it in longer makes the color brighter but leaving it in too long can fuck up your hair, so, yeah, I guess this is a good medium point.” He shrugs again; Jonghyun shakes his head after a moment and fixes the plastic cover Kibum hands him over his shirt and leans more over the drain.

“You’d think, for someone that does this like, every week, you’d be more specific,” he mumbles. Kibum shushes him, yanks the showerhead down, and starts rinsing out his hair with barely any warning. Jonghyun can’t reprimand him because he’s too busy trying to not let water down his nose. The smug smirk Kibum has tells him that that was the plan and he just kind of halfheartedly kicks him in the leg.

When Kibum deems the dye to be completely rinsed out and tosses a fresh towel at Jonghyun, Jonghyun wiggles to his feet and pokes him in the stomach, just to be a shit. Then he dodges Kibum’s smack at his arm and goes to the mirror to finish drying his hair out. He squeezes out all of the excess moisture and lowers the towel, and then frowns at his reflection. Something doesn’t seem right.

“Kibum,” he frowns. “This is just. Brown again.” It’s not red at all. Kibum comes up behind him in the mirror and frowns as well.

“No it’s not,” he says. “It’s totally red.”

“Is not,” Jonghyun huffs. Kibum huffs back and runs his fingers through it, picking up a few strands and holding them up to let light pass through.

“Is too,” he insists. “It’s just darker because it’s still wet. Hold on.” He bends to open up a cabinet under the sink and pull out his hair dryer. Jonghyun crosses his arms as he lets Kibum fluff through his hair and dry it completely. It does lighten a bit, admittedly, but it definitely doesn’t turn out red. Kibum obviously has a differing opinion, though; he smiles as he puts the dryer back down and fixes up Jonghyun’s bangs. “See?” he says. “That’s totally red.”

“Kibum,” Jonghyun says, turning to look at him directly instead of going between with the mirror. “This is brown.”

“It is _not_ brown,” Kibum snaps. “It’s red. It’s… reddish brown. Brownish red. Mostly red. It’s not brown,” he repeats. Jonghyun snorts. He can’t even convince himself. Kibum huffs again and pulls out his own phone. “One sec,” he mumbles, holding it up. He snaps a picture before Jonghyun even realizes that that’s what he’s doing. He latches himself to Kibum’s shoulder once he does, peering at his phone to see him on snapchat.

“Who are you sending that to?” he demands. Kibum knows how he is about pictures.

“Amber,” Kibum says, trying to shrug him off. Jonghyun pouts. He still thinks it’s weird how often the two of them text. He doesn’t even know when he started talking to the other biker, but apparently they’re best buds. He just hasn’t said anything because he doesn’t want to admit that he’s irrationally friend jealous. He watches Kibum type out “is this red or brown??” and hit send. Rolling his eyes, he hops back up onto the opposite counter and grabs his phone again to work on editing his lyrics until Amber replies.

When they do, Kibum tugs Jonghyun over before he taps on the picture. He looks smug as fuck before he even looks, which just makes Amber’s lazy smile and “100% brown” reply that much better. Jonghyun grins as he watches Kibum’s face go sour. He loves when Kibum hates being wrong.

“Told you,” he says. It’s okay, though, he thinks as he looks at himself in the mirror again. He doesn’t really mind the brown. He thinks it’s nice, and it is lighter than any brown he’s even had, so it is at least new.

“Are they at the beach?” Kibum asks instead of replying. Jonghyun hums in question and looks back at the snap before it ends.

“I guess, yeah,” he says, taking note of the light sand and blue waves. There’s a cute dolphin statue in the background as well. “Hey,” he grins as the snap ends. “I’ve been there before. That’s the beach by the motel I stayed at that one time.” He smiles fondly at the memories.

“You mean the motel you got grounded in?” Kibum asks, turning to him with a cocked brow and a smirk. Jonghyun scrunches up his face. Those were not the memories that he wanted to remember.

“Did anyone ask you?” he grumbles. “Ask Amber if Taemin likes it,” he adds, remembering his boyfriend as well. He’s probably there. Kibum rolls his eyes and snaps another picture; this one Jonghyun is prepared for and he makes sure to look extra pretty.

When Amber replies again, it’s just a picture of Taemin passed out in the sand, a pretty impressive sand castle built over his chest, and Kyuhyun and Changmin waving enthusiastically at the camera, with the shrug emoji badly drawn under it. Jonghyun shares his eyeroll with Kibum. He’ll just ask his opinion the next time the gang stays at the motel.

“You know, I think if we dyed it again right now it would turn out, like, _really_ red,” Kibum says, twirling his fingers in Jonghyun’s hair. Jonghyun snorts and flaps his hand away.

“No thanks,” he says. “I’d like to not kill my hair.” Kibum might be fine with dying his head every week, but Jonghyun wants to still have hair when he’s older. “Maybe in a few months,” he shrugs.

“Fine,” Kibum grumbles.

 

2 ((gif warning))  
Taemin doesn’t really know what he was expecting when he rolled around the corner of Sunny’s street, but he does know that it wasn’t a cat, so really, he can’t be blamed for swerving wildly, running someone’s garbage bags over, and stumbling off of his bike. He hisses curses to himself as he steps up onto the curb, frowning at how his bike is lying on its side in a pile of fucking garbage. That’s just. Sad.

“Holy shit, dude.” Taemin glances up at Sunny’s voice, then grimaces and looks back down when he sees literally everyone stopped in front of the house and looking at him. Damn it. This is what he gets for always leaving first. Everyone saw him fuck up. He puts his hands on his hips and sighs, trying to figure out what the best way to go about hauling his bike up would be. There are some coffee grounds smudged on one handle that he frowns at. He’s pretty sure those are supposed to be composted.

“Hey.” A firm hand touches his stomach; Taemin looks up again at Jinki this time, off of his bike and right in front of him. “You okay?” Jinki asks. Taemin sighs, but nods, lifting one hand in the okay symbol. He was going like, seven miles an hour. He’s just disgruntled is all. Jinki nods, then grins, mouth curving into a smirk. “Trash baby,” he teases. Taemin scoffs.

“Fuck off,” he grumbles, flapping Jinki away. “Can you put the kickstand down?” He gestures at the other side of his bike. He doesn’t want it falling over the other way when he pushes it up. Jinki nods again, still smirking, and circles around to help him out. Taemin turns to crouch and put his butt against the seat and grab as low as he can so he can just kinda walk it up straight again. It’s as he’s trying to find a place to put his feet that isn’t in garbage that some teenager walks out of the front door of the house. He groans to himself as he gets his leverage.

“What...happened?” they ask when they get close enough. Taemin scrunches up his face.

“I mean,” he grunts after he pushes his bike all the way up. “Um. I almost ran your cat the ffff… fudge. Over.” He kind of saves himself before he curses in front of this child. They look like, fourteen, at the most. He doesn’t know what the rules are for swearing in front of kids. He just knows that he never followed them when he was one. “But I didn’t,” he adds. “I just… ran over your garbage instead.” That’s better than murdering their pet, right? Like, there’s garbage all over their street now, but at least it’s not feline remains. He looks down and kind of tries to kick some of the stuff back into the burst bag. Then he frowns. This isn’t going to work.

“Do you have, like, another garbage bag?” he asks. “And a broom?” He’s not touching this shit with his hands to clean it up. Jinki snorts at his request and Taemin turns to glare at him. That is not helpful at all. He can’t just leave this mess everywhere and he won’t be made fun of for doing a good deed. “What?” he snaps.

“Your bike has ketchup on it,” Jinki tells him pleasantly. Taemin blinks at him, then looks at his bike, and then hisses in disgust when he sees that Jinki is right and there is indeed a large ketchup smear over the mint stripes. Ugh.

“Can I borrow your hose too, maybe?” Taemin asks, turning back to the kid with a sigh. In front of him, the kid snickers; behind him, everyone else does too. He grumbles at all of them and pushes his bike out of all of the garbage.

 

3  
“Mmmh… you’re cute, you know that?”

Jonghyun takes his eyes off of the back of the customer he just helped as they walk away and looks at Taemin instead, raising a brow. He’s still leaning up against the front desk, drawing invisible little lines with his finger on the wood and looking like he’s just here because there’s nowhere else to be and not because he’s been following Jonghyun around all morning. Jonghyun’s lips curve into a little smirk at how hard he’s trying to look bored. He’s so cute.

“I do know that, yes, thank you,” he says. He’s cute as heckie and he appreciates how Taemin is acknowledging it. Taemin pouts at his agreement, though, puffs up his lips at the little business cards in front of him.

“Remember when you used to blush at things?” he asks. “Like, I would say something, and you would get all blushy, and it was really cute.… That was nice.” He takes a business card and starts folding it into a little paper hat; Jonghyun looks at him, not sure if he should be upset or amused. He settles for a weird mix of both, propping his chin up in his hand.

“Yes, I remember when I couldn’t handle my crushing anxiety and low self-esteem,” he says. He keeps his voice light, but makes sure to cock a brow when Taemin looks up at him. “I wouldn’t exactly have called it ‘nice.’” Taemin is blinking rapidly in that way he does when he’s caught off guard and unprepared for the situation. He looks down, back up, and then down again, thumb rubbing over the same crease over and over again.

“Um--sorry,” he mumbles. “I didn’t mean… just….” He’s blushing now; there’s a tiny tiny tiny pink tinge to his cheeks. It makes Jonghyun’s grin spread wide across his face. He can’t stay mad at that. It’s way too pretty and just way too fucking _funny_ how Taemin is always the one that embarasses himself. He keeps getting all upset about not being the one always in charge anymore. It’s been happening more often ever since he admitted that he was in love a year ago, and even more since Jonghyun really started to get a handle on his mental health a few months ago. Jonghyun thinks it’s adorable, to be honest.

Still, they were literally just talking about Jonghyun blushing because of his anxiety, so Jonghyun isn’t going to make Taemin feel worse for his mistake. Even if he doesn’t actually have anxiety, Jonghyun knows that he’s feeling guilt and shame right now for finding Jonghyun’s insecurity cute. Jonghyun isn’t going to do the same thing to him.

“Don’t feel bad,” he tells Taemin, reaching over to poke his cheeks gently. He didn’t go through years of struggling and self-help and expensive ineffective meds just to end up with a boyfriend that feels guilty about missing his blushes. “I know what you meant.” Taemin looks at him for a moment, dark eyes serious and searching, like he’s trying to figure out if Jonghyun really means it. Then he closes his eyes, takes that deep, cleansing breath of his, and opens them again only halfway.

“I made you a hat,” he says quietly, poking the little paper hat his fingers kept making during that whole exchange. He reaches over the desk to take Jonghyun’s pen and scribble something tiny on it, then lifts it up and places it gently upon Jonghyun’s brown hair. Jonghyun immediately snatches it off before his curiosity kills him and squints at the writing on it.

“Property of Lee Taemin, please return if found,” it says.

Jonghyun blushes immediately, and then blushes more at how fucking ridiculous it was that he blushed at that.

“This is cheating,” he whines, pouting up at his boyfriend. He can’t use Jonghyun’s love of being called Taemin’s against him like this.

Taemin smirks and takes the hat to put it back on top of his head.

 

4  
Jinki hisses when the motorcycle cop positions themself directly behind him and flips their siren on. He was hoping that they weren’t following him. And he’d almost caught back up with Taemin and Changmin, too. He flicks his blinker on to let them know that he’s going to pull over before he slowly pulls himself to the right side of the road. Damn it. Damn it damn it damn it. He sighs as he cuts the engine, pulls his helmet off, and stands up, trying his best to look humble and nonthreatening.

“Afternoon, officer,” he says when they get close enough, smiling as charming as he can without crossing the line from polite to creepy. They step in front of him: tall, thick boots, heavy belt, shiny badge, dark sunglasses, blood red lipstick… yep. Incredibly fucking intimidating. If they weren’t a cop and he weren’t being pulled over by them right now, he would absolutely be flirting with them. Their nametag identifies them as Officer Choi Minjung, which he notes silently for future reference.

“Yeah, hey,” they say, looking him up and down quickly. “Can I see your licence and registration please?”

“Sure,” Jinki says pleasantly. “I’m gonna need to reach into my jacket for my wallet and my bag for my papers, so…,” He moves his one hand to his pocket slowly enough to not be threatening as Officer Choi nods. He doesn’t really want to admit how unsettling their existence is. Or how unsettling this entire thing is. He’s not even thirty and this is his first ever ticket and if he’s being perfectly honest with himself as Officer Choi walks back to their bike with his stuff, he is extremely flustered. He’s just acting like he knows what he’s doing and hoping he doesn’t get shot.

“Hey.”

_“Fuck--Taemin,”_ Jinki hisses, turning to glare at the little shit and pretending like he didn’t just jump half a mile when his hands appeared on his waist. “What are you doing here?” he snaps. Taemin is grinning at him like he couldn’t be more amused right now and it’s upsetting him greatly. His bike is parked in front of Jinki’s with his helmet on his seat; Jinki thought he was catching up to the rest of the group. “Where’s Changmin?” he frowns. Taemin was supposed to be following him.

“Okay, well,” Taemin says, lifting his hand to rub his nose. “The three of us lost the group at that one stoplight, right, and then _you_ lost me and Changmin at the next, and then somehow at the _next_ one _I_ lost _him_. And like. I don’t know the fucking way to the movies, like, what do I look like, a map? I’ve been here like, twice. So I figured I’d wait for you, but then.” He stops looking sheepish and starts looking amused again. “You’re getting in trouble,” he sings. His smile is almost as big as his face and Jinki scowls, disgruntled. This is literally the first time since he let Taemin join months ago that he’s stopped pretending to be an emotionless asshole. Of course it’s when he’s been pulled over.

“I’m not getting in trouble,” he grumbles. Taemin cocks a brow.

“Yeah?” he asks. “What’re they doing then?” He nods over to where the cop is still running his info through dispatch. Jinki purses his lips. He doesn’t need this.

“Just don’t piss them off,” he says. Taemin flaps a dismissive hand.

“Please,” he says. “I dealt with cops all the time before.”

“No you haven’t,” Jinki says flatly. He’s never seen Taemin with a cop before in his life. Taemin waves a dismissive hand again.

“Cops, social workers, same thing,” he shrugs.

“Oh my god,” Jinki sighs. Those aren’t the same at all. “Just--go back to your bike. Or actually--” He fits his arm around Taemin’s waist and holds him close. This is actually kind of good. At least with Taemin he feels some sort of control.

“You didn’t admit you were speeding, did you?” Taemin asks. Jinki huffs.

“Don’t say that _out loud_ \--Officer, hey, thanks.” Jinki turns quickly when he realizes that Officer Choi is walking back and holding out his stuff for him to take back. They’ve taken their sunglasses off and they have the softest big brown eyes Jinki has ever seen, which, to be honest, fluster him even more, but they do at least lessen the severity of their killer lipstick. He fixes his polite smile back onto his lips and hopes Taemin is doing the same when Officer Choi’s eyes settle on him instead.

“Who’s this?” they ask. Jinki glances quickly at Taemin and then back to them.

“Uh, my adoptive son,” he says, patting Taemin’s shoulder in what he hopes is a fatherly gesture. It feels weird to say that in this situation. Maybe when Taemin asked to sleep with him during his first week, maybe when he clings to Jinki extra hard in new places, but not now when Taemin is trying to give him shit for getting in trouble. “Adoptive brother” would be more fitting, maybe, or “adoptive nuisance that I’m in charge of.” Next to him, Taemin nods a little greeting.

“Hello, officer,” he says politely. Officer Choi looks Taemin over once and Jinki swears their lips quirk into an amused little smile for a second before they look back to Jinki, one finger tapping the notepad in their other hand.

“Do you know how fast you were going?” they ask.

“I would guess around forty?” Jinki suggests. Five over the limit and a huge fucking lie, but it’s better than what he was actually going. Officer Choi tsks with a shake of their head.

“Fifty-six,” they say. Taemin hisses softly next to him; Jinki does his best to look surprised.

“Ah,” he says. “I see.” He actually is kind of surprised; he thought he was going at least sixty. Taemin nudges his side.

“Twenty over,” he says. “That’s four points on your license and somewhere between a hundred and eighty to three hundred dollars if you don’t try to fight it.”

“What, really?” Jinki glances at him, and then back at the cop, who nods. Taemin pats his side.

“You can go to traffic school to get the points knocked off, though,” he says brightly. “But you’d have to pay for the fees for that also.” Jinki frowns. Traffic school. That doesn’t seem right.

“They can’t send me to _traffic school,_ ” he says. What is he, sixteen?

“They can if you haven’t been in the last eighteen months,” Officer Choi says. Taemin nods, raising his eyebrows at Jinki like he does when he’s feeling superior. Jinki tries his hardest not to look grumpy. That does sound like the kind of bullshit the government would come up with.

“And that’s in _addition_ to the fine for the ticket?” he asks the cop. They nod and Taemin’s fingers poke Jinki’s side enough to let him know that he’s really fucking amused right now. Jinki doesn’t appreciate his joy.

“But, that’s,” Taemin says suddenly, and then hesitates. Jinki glances at him in time to see him glancing at the cop. The hand he doesn’t have around Jinki’s waist curls around his elbow. “That’s _if_ you get the ticket,” he says. “Officer Choi might consider just giving you a warning instead, right?” he turns to the officer with a hopeful little smile; Jinki tries not to bee too obvious in how he elbows him in the ribs. Bad idea. Trying to charm the cop is a very bad idea. Taemin keeps smiling, though, and after a moment, Officer Choi does as well.

“Right,” they say, pointing at Taemin with their pen. They turn their smile to Jinki, looking impressed. “You have a smart kid.” Jinki grins weakly back; Taemin leans up on his shoulder and smiles right next to his face.

“It comes from his genes,” he jokes, which makes Jinki grimace but Officer Choi laugh.

“Keep him out of trouble,” they say, pointing at Jinki with their thumb and giving Taemin a wink. Jinki has never been more disgruntled in his life as Taemin laughs with the cop, but he forces himself to smile as well. “You two have a nice day,” Officer Choi says, lifting their notepad in a wave and walking back to their bike.

“Thank you, you too,” Jinki manages to reply. He is feeling a large amount of emotions right now and none of them seem to match the elation that Taemin is experiencing as he leans around Jinki to wave brightly.

“Bye, Officer Choi,” he sings as they start up their bike and drive off again. When they’ve gone, Taemin lets his hand fall and turns to give Jinki the biggest, smuggest, most assholeish grin Jinki has ever seen in his life. He humphs, shrugging Taemin off of his shoulder and snatching up his helmet.

“I’m mad at you,” he grumbles.

“You owe me,” Taemin says.

“I know,” Jinki huffs. That’s why he’s mad. Like getting pulled over wasn’t embarrassing enough. He should frown at Taemin about how that was irresponsible and could have gone very badly very quickly, but he also knows that cops usually decide if they want to give someone a ticket or not before they even give the license card back. Officer Choi had their little ticket notepad all ready and everything before Taemin came over. Jinki is like, eighty percent sure that Taemin is what made them change their mind. And he knows that Taemin knows that too, and that’s what bugs the fuck out of him. He’s never gonna let him live this down. It pains his soul to admit it but he really _should_ thank Taemin.

“Come on, we’re gonna miss the previews,” is what he says instead. Movie previews are the best parts. Taemin grins like he doesn’t believe Jinki’s lack of gratitude at all and flounces back to his bike.

 

5  
Taemin knew he should have gotten a simpler phone.

One of the older slide ones, with the keyboard and everything. That would’ve been better. He squints at the phone he has now, cupping his hand over the screen to block out the glare from the sun. He knows how to do this. Amber showed him, like, two days ago. He taps back to his contacts, then taps Jonghyun, then swipes left… no, right, that’s the camera screen. Once he’s there, staring at all of the options and shit, he frowns. Hmm. The chickens in the pen front of him cluck their judgement, which he ignores. He thinks… he taps and holds the circle button, but almost as soon as the video starts recording he realizes that this isn’t what he wants. Damn it.

Whatever. He sighs, deletes the video, and just takes a picture of himself instead, trying to look helpless but also aloof at the same time. Typing “can you video call me or whatever” and hitting send, he pouts at his phone as he watches the little loading circle. He really should know how to do this better. As he’s waiting, a text from Jinki pops up in the corner and he scans it quickly. Just letting him know that he’s getting lunch on the other side of the farm. Taemin sends him the dancing lady emoji back because he doesn’t have anything specific to say in reply to that and he’s taken to using her in place of his usual lazy shrugs of acknowledgement. Before another minute passes, he gets the notification of Jonghyun’s video call.

He clumsily drags the answer button like three times before he drags it the correct way to answer the call, and then fumbles for an angle that doesn’t make him look like a thumb while Jonghyun smiles at him from the screen.

“Hey,” he hums, taking in the glimpse of Jonghyun’s floor behind him. He must be writing lyrics at his desk again.

“Hey,” Jonghyun hums back. “Are you outside?”

“Mmhmm,” Taemin says. “I’m at a farm. Kind of.” It used to be a farm but now it’s also a history place with tours and festivals and shit. He shrugs. Nothing’s really going on today. Admission was only like, two dollars each and there’s only a few people wandering around in the apple groves. He likes it best when they visit on days like this where he can kind of just sit in the middle of all of the plants and soak up the sun.

“You’re at a farm but you're calling me instead?” Jonghyun asks incredulously. “That’s so cool. Go learn about crops or something.”

“I already have,” Taemin scoffs. He’s been here enough times. He doesn’t need Jonghyun shaming him for being attached to his phone. “And I wanted to show you, like… fuck.” He frowns at his phone. Where’s the… fuck. “How do you--” he flips the phone quickly just to check that it does actually have a camera on the back as well and he wasn’t just imagining that. “How do you… switch to the back camera?” he asks. Jonghyun muffles his laughter more gracefully than he did last time and Taemin is grateful for that. He can’t expected to know everything about a fancy new phone when he’s never had one before in his life. So what if he’s almost twenty-four. He hasn’t even had it for a week.

“Hit the little button with two arrows, like, in a circle,” Jonghyun tells him. Taemin frowns more.

“There isn’t--”

“Tap the screen.” Taemin looks at Jonghyun’s amused little grin for a second, then taps the screen gently once. All of the little icons and shit fade back up at the top and bottom. Oh. Hmm. He taps the switch camera button without replying; a second later, the little square with his face in the corner changes to show the ground in front of him instead.

“Aha,” he says triumphantly. All by himself. Jonghyun’s soft chuckles don’t even bother him as he fumbles to hold his phone up and scoot closer to the chicken pen. “Look at all of these tiny ass roosters,” he says, focusing the camera on the closest one. He’s always loved these. They’re like, a third of the size that regular roosters are.

“Oh my god,” Jonghyun says. Immediately Taemin sees him reach for the phone and pull it closer to himself. He smiles, proud. “They’re so little,” Jonghyun whispers.

“ _Right,_ ” Taemin hisses back. They’re so fucking cute. Jonghyun is also cute as he fawns over the birds, then demands that Taemin show him more. Taemin grins to himself as he walks Jonghyun around the pen and then over to see the horses. He knew this phone would be a good idea.


	8. four times ppl were poly (͠≖ ͜ʖ͠≖) plus an april fools one

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taeyeon is leaning up on the front desk, smiling at the two bikers on the other side as one draws little lines over the back of her hand and the other plays with a lock of her long blonde hair.

****1  
When Taemin groggily shuffles into Minhwan’s kitchen sometime before noon, he finds Jinki sitting at the table, fingers clasped in front of his mouth, eyebrows furrowed, gaze fixed on his phone. There are gentle guitar pings coming from it every few seconds; Jinki’s notification tone. Taemin frowns, confused, as he fumbles in the cabinets for a bowl.

“What,” he says shortly, and then grimaces. He meant to say, like, more words there. Whatever. He’s tired and hungry and Jinki understood what he meant anyway, if the way he glances up and moves his hands from in front of his mouth means anything. He picks up his phone, frowns at it, puts it back down, takes that steadying breath of his that only shows up once in a millennium.

“I’ve made a mistake,” he says evenly. Taemin snorts. This should be good. He pours himself some cereal, dumps in too much sugar, and fumbles to not spill the almost full milk carton all over the table with his sleepy hands before he sits down. He wants to be fully situated before he continues with this conversation. When he’s taken his first bite, he props his cheek in his hand and looks at Jinki on the other side of the table.

“What mistake?” he asks. Jinki sighs again and looks up at him.

“So,” he says. “We were staying at Luna’s place, a few days ago,” he says. Taemin nods. He touched up his dye then and is very pleased with how his roots aren’t showing anymore. “So, we also went to the mall, a few days ago,” Jinki continues. “And I talked to Vic, like, you know, usual.”

“Mmhmm,” Taemin hums. “Number four.”

“I told you to stop numbering them,” Jinki grumbles. Taemin shrugs. He doesn’t pay enough attention to Jinki’s sex life to remember everyone’s names.

“What about her?” he asks instead of replying to that. He wants his breakfast drama.

“So, like,” Jinki says again. “I was talking to her, and I got a text from _Narsha._ ”

“From the beach?” Taemin asks. Number eight. He keeps the number to himself so Jinki won’t frown at him. Instead, Jinki nods, glancing at his phone again as the notifs pick up.

“So I excused myself to answer Narsha really quick, but then Vic asked who I was talking to. And so I told her, and then we were talking about, you know, my other partners, and then. Vic asked if I would set up a group chat for them.” He picks up his phone again and taps through something before tapping back to what’s making all of the notifications go off. “So I asked everyone, and they were all into it, so I set it up with all of them. Why not, right?” Jinki continues. “But. It was. A large mistake.” He covers his mouth with his hand as he taps a few more notifications away on his phone. “They won’t stop,” he says, voice muffled. Taemin snorts. Wow. He thought this would be at least a few levels more interesting than it actually is.

“Are they _talking about you_?” he asks, wiggling the fingers of his free hand to emphasize the words. “Like how you act differently around all of them?”

“I do not,” Jinki snaps. Taemin gives him a look; he grimaces. “Or, like. Not, excessively, at least,” he says. “They all like different things about me and maybe I play up different aspects of my personality. It’s not a big deal.” He huffs out the excuse; Taemin raises his brows and gives him a knowing smile. Sure. Jinki huffs again and Taemin is really enjoying how flustered he’s getting. It’s a rare sight. He’s going to make sure to save it in his memory forever. Jinki looks at his phone again and deflates from his puffed up defensive posture to a more defeated, tired one. “They’re talking about my fucking dick,” he groans.

Taemin almost chokes on his cereal.

“Oh my god,” he says. He brings his hand up to his mouth so he can swallow cleanly before he laughs into his palm. “Are you serious?” he asks. In reply, Jinki thrusts his phone across the table. Taemin grabs it eagerly and scrolls through some of the most recent texts, which are, in fact, about Jinki’s dick. And his sex habits, and his techniques, and how polite he is after, all of which are things that Taemin never needs to have knowledge of in his brain, so he gives the phone back quickly before he can really read any of them. “Oh my god,” he still says again, because Jinki has his face in his hands and this is one of the funniest things he’s ever experienced. “I mean,” he says. “It’s kind of your fault.”

“I _know,”_ Jinki hisses. “Did you see they renamed it to ‘V-Squad?’” He shows Taemin the phone again and Taemin shakes with renewed giggles at the title: “V-Squad (Plus Jinki).” He bets the “V Squad” was Joon and the “plus Jinki” was Daesung. The notifications keep going and Jinki just looks more and more regretful as they go on. Taemin is still stifling laughter, but he props his chin up in his hand anyway.

“If it’s bugging you tell them to stop,” he says, tapping the table near the phone. Simple. Jinki grimaces, picks up his phone, sighs, shrugs.

“Good point,” he mumbles, and taps something out quickly. When he puts his phone down the notifications stop for a few seconds. Then, almost all at once, and perfectly readable to Taemin upside down, he gets one “sorry,” one “sorry babe,” one laughing face, three kissie faces, two hearts, one “lmao,” and one eggplant emoji.

 

2  
“...And you have to make sure, like, that all the numbers are right on all three forms.”

“Uh huh.”

“I’m serious, Tae, _you’re_ gonna be the one responsible for keeping Sodam’s stress down with this shit. Kitchen orders are the one thing that fucks her up.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.”

“Just, you know she has everything in triple and checks everything over too many times for a reason. She’s worse than me about them. And you need to--Tae.”

Jonghyun frowns when he glances up a third time and sees his manager-in-training still not looking at him. She’s leaning up on the front desk, smiling at the two bikers on the other side as one draws little lines over the back of her hand and the other plays with a lock of her long blonde hair. Ugh. “Hey,” he says loudly, “you two.” He snaps his fingers and points at the other two, who jump and snatch their hands away from Taeyeon. Junghee reaches up to fix her ponytail innocently and Gwiboon suddenly becomes very interested in the sleek silver polish on her nails. Jonghyun huffs at both of them. “Go away,” he commands. They pout; Taeyeon makes a whiny noise and drapes over the counter.

“Why?” she wails. “They’re not distracting me.”

“Yeah?” Jonghyun asks. He doubts that very seriously. “What did I just say then?”

“You--um,” Taeyeon says. Immediately she looks shifty and guilty. Jonghyun snorts. She can’t even bullshit one thing. He watches her throw a pleading look at her girlfriends; both of them shrug wildly. They weren’t paying attention to him either. This is no way to work.

“Shoo,” Jonghyun tells the bikers, making flappy hands in their general direction. They hesitate for a moment, share a look between each other, shrug helplessly at Taeyeon, and shuffle away in shame. They only go as far as the couch on the other side of the lobby, where they sit together and throw sad little looks back to the counter. Jonghyun turns back to Taeyeon with his own stern frown. “This is important, come on,” he tells her. She sighs dramatically and gives him her big pouty eyes.

“This is _unfair_ ,” she whines. “How come he gets to be all over you but I can’t be with them?” She gestures forcefully over Jonghyun’s shoulder; Jonghyun glances up for just a second at Taemin. Taemin, who is looking just as bored and tired as usual but is also radiating an air of extreme smugness, squeezes his arms tighter around his waist for just a second and brushes his lips against his temple. Jonghyun fights down his giddy blush and just reaches up to poke Taemin’s cheek instead.

“Because he’s actually not distracting me,” he says. He has mastered the skill of doing his work with his sleepy boyfriend leaning on him over years of practise. And that was after he’d already gotten his jobs down to a routine. Taeyeon is nowhere near his skill. Two years of solo cleaning duty and one year of receptionist duty aren’t anywhere close. And the girlfriends are even newer. “You can have your babes with you when you finish learning how to check all of this shit over,” he says, wiggling the physical copy in front of her and tapping the computer screen. She sighs and scoots closer, taking the clipboard with her chin in her hand.

“Since when is babe action a senior manager perk,” she grumbles. Jonghyun grins and tugs Taemin’s arms more around him.

 

3  
Taemin is nestled comfortably in the warmth of the heavy motel blankets, the a/c on next to him and the low murmur of whatever it is that Kyuhyun and his too many partners are talking about next door lulling him to sleep. He smiles as he tugs his spare pillow close and nuzzles his cheek against it. He’s tired after a long day and full of good food and fun memories.

It was April Fool’s Day today and finally, for once in thirtty-something years, no one made fun of him for being entirely too gullible. Someone just swapped his regular gloves with ugly sequinned ones and someone else changed the nametag on his little potted cactus from “Jongie” to “Butthead.” Simple things that made him giggle and _didn’t_ make him feel gross and ashamed. It was a fun day, and now he’s in the perfectly comfortable position in bed. He’s gonna see Jonghyun tomorrow too and that makes him smile even wider. This is so nice. So comfortable. So good. He hasn’t been this happy about his sleeping conditions in at least a few weeks. It’s with that thought that he feels himself drifting off, fading out into the gentle unconsciousness of sleep.

And then his phone vibrates on the glass top of his bedside table, rattling everything on top of it and making his eyes snap open and his heart pound.

It vibrates again after that, and then a third time, and by then he’s closed his eyes again with a loud sigh. He groans, scrunching up his face and rubbing it against the pillow. What the fuck. He wants to ignore it, but only two people would ever text them this late and neither of them are people he should ignore. With another groan, he moves his arm from its perfect spot under the covers to flap around the table until it finds his phone. He squints through the brightness of the screen to see that it’s from Jonghyun.

**From: ❤Jonghyun❤  
11:37PM**  
Tae hey I don’t really know how to say this but I got into a car accident

**From: ❤Jonghyun❤  
11:37PM**  
It wasn’t anything major though!! Just a broken nose. I’m fine.

**From: ❤Jonghyun❤  
11:38PM**  
They’re gonna let me out of the ER in a little bit and I’ll be home when you get here tomorrow, but no kissing for at least a week :c

Taemin scowls as he reads the messages. What the fuck. Of all the fucking people. And he’s really cutting it close, too, with barely twenty minutes left until midnight. Why the fuck couldn’t he have pulled this earlier, like, before he knew Taemin would be trying to sleep. Two months away and he had to ruin it on the last fucking day. Taemin tugs his phone closer so he can type out a quick reply:

**To: ❤Jonghyun❤  
11:39PM**  
ha ha april fools jonghyun ~u got me~ wow

**To ❤Jonghyun❤  
11:40PM**  
that wasnt funny

He taps his phone all the way to silent and throws it back onto the bedside table, curling back up under the covers after with a huff. So much for a good night.

He falls asleep with a frown on his lips and wakes up feeling gross and a little later than he technically should have.

He doesn’t feel like talking much to anyone today so he takes his time in the shower, packs up all of his shit, checks out of the motel, and slouches outside once he’s sure that anyone that did go out for breakfast is already gone. It’s just Sunny and Sungmin hanging around the bikes in the parking lot when he gets out there. He gives them a half-assed wave and shuffles his way across the street to the little bakery for a muffin and a smoothie.

He’s nestled himself next to some low bushes on the curb when everyone else starts walking back from the diner down the street; he waves tiredly at them and holds up his empty smoothie cup in the hopes that one of them will throw in the garbage for him. Not surprisingly, it’s Jinki that does, and when he gets back, he tugs Taemin to his feet.

“Did you text Jonghyun?” he asks, and Taemin frowns. He hasn’t checked his phone at all today. And he’s still kind of grumpy at his boyfriend for trying to prank him last night. He doesn’t know why Jinki would want him to text Jonghyun either, other than--

“Oh,” he says. “Shit.” He forgot. “I--my phone’s in my bag,” he mumbles, gesturing at his bike. “Can you let him know? That we’re coming?” It always takes him like five minutes of rummaging around in there to find it. He doesn’t wanna deal with it. Jinki nods slowly, giving him a weird look that he doesn’t understand at all.

“Okay,” he says, pulling his phone from his pocket. “Is there anything else, maybe, that you want me to tell him?”

“No…?” Taemin says. He tilts his head, confused. He frowns at the ground for a second. If yesterday was April first, then today is definitely the second, which means that Jonghyun’s birthday isn’t for another six. He knows. He’s remembered the last, like, four, at least, without needing help. “I’m gonna be there for his birthday,” he tells Jinki. Jinki, instead of looking reassured, just frowns more.

“Did he text you last night too?” he asks, and oh. That’s what this is. Taemin scowls.

“He tried getting you in on it also?” he asks incredulously. “It’s not April Fool’s anymore, Jinki, come on. It wasn’t even funny the first time.” He is definitely going to have a very stern talk with Jonghyun later. And maybe an angry text convo with Jinki, since he’ll probably be gone by the time Taemin actually feels like talking about it. He doesn’t need this in his life. Both of them should know better. He huffs as he turns his back on Jinki to get on his bike, grabbing his helmet so he can get ready to leave before everyone else. If he’s gonna be mad he wants to be mad on Jonghyun’s couch instead of a parking lot, at least. The amused little smirk he catches on Jinki’s lips before he puts his helmet on doesn’t help his mood in the slightest.

He stays grumpy for the whole twenty-something minute ride to the outdoor mall in Jonghyun’s city. A quick couple of donuts and a strawberry shortcake pep him up, but only a little bit, and by the time he gets back to his bike he’s grumpy again because both Jinki and Gwiboon say they wanna come with him to see Jonghyun.

“Why _you?_ ” he grumbles at Gwiboon. Jinki he can understand, but she and Jonghyun never really seemed the type to hang out. Gwiboon shrugs innocently and swings her leg over her bike.

“I just think it’ll be interesting,” she says. Taemin frowns. Okay. Whatever the fuck that means. He doesn’t ask why she’s not dragging Junghee to come too; the less people around to smirk at him for being grumpy the better. He waves a goodbye to everyone else chilling outside the bakery, gets on his bike, and revs back out on the street, only glancing behind him once to make sure the other two are following. Honestly, he just wants to take an angry nap and then wait for Jonghyun to apologize for thinking that pretending to be injured was funny.

When they reach Jonghyun’s cute little house in the suburbs, he wiggles his bike carefully next to Jonghyun’s car in the driveway and leaves the other two to park on the curb. He grabs his bag, fixes his jacket, and slouches up to the front door, but before he can lift his hand to knock, it pulls open.

“Oh--uh,” he says, because that’s Kibum standing there instead of Jonghyun. “Um. Hi,” he says. He didn’t know Jonghyun’s friend would be visiting too. Kibum says nothing; he crosses his arms, leans up against the doorframe, and gives him this extremely amused little smirk that unsettles Taemin’s soul. In the time it takes Taemin to get very confused by this, Jinki and Gwiboon come up behind him and greet Kibum as well. It’s then that Kibum pushes himself back up straight and steps back to let Taemin in.

“You fucked up,” is all he says, lips curving up even further into a grin that Taemin would delicately label as “sadistic.”

“Um,” Taemin says. He glances behind him; Jinki just looks pleasantly amused and Gwiboon’s smile is eerily similar to Kibum’s. What the fuck. He inches himself into Jonghyun’s living room, slides his bag into the little nook by the door he usually leaves it in, and looks around, awkwardly aware of everyone’s eyes on him. After a second, he finds Jonghyun on the couch. Jonghyun gives him a tiny wave from where he’s bundled up in a blanket, water bottle with a straw in his hand, laptop in his lap, a half-melted ice pack by his side, two black eyes, and with what is obviously-- _obviously-_ -a cast over his nose.

“Oh no,” Taemin whispers.

He’s never heard Kibum’s laugh before, but if he were anything other than fucking humiliated he would have taken a second to note how it hits the same obnoxiously hysterical note that Gwiboon’s does. Blood rushes to his cheeks, his ears, his entire head as he flushes in shame. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. He needs to leave immediately. He takes a step forward, a step back, glances towards the front door in distress; Jinki is smirking at him from the doorway and Jonghyun’s mouth has curved into an almost identical one when he looks back.

“Oh my fucking god,” he hisses. He turns to the hallway and immediately strides down it, fumbling for the doorknob to the bedroom and launching himself in there. What the _fuck._ This is so fucked up. Their laughter echoes after him as he runs his fingers through his hair and grabs one of Jonghyun’s fifty stray water bottles that he never cleans up off of his dresser. Holy fucking shit. He downs the rest of what’s probably two week old water. He’s such an asshole. He needs to go apologize--but as soon as he has that thought he flinches away from the door. Fuck. He can’t just go back out there and talk to Jonghyun in front of the others. _Ugh._

He swallows, takes a deep breath, and does the next best thing that comes to mind, which really isn’t that good of an idea either.

Pushing the door back open, he scuttles down the hallway, aggressively ignores the way Kibum and Gwiboon lean on each other with renewed cackles, flaps away Jinki’s amused hand, and steps in front of Jonghyun. He grabs his water bottle, the ice pack, and his laptop, bundles them up clumsily in one arm, and takes Jonghyun’s wrist with his other, and then tugs him all the way back to the bedroom. Jonghyun stumbles and protests weakly, but Taemin can hear him fighting down giggles as he struggles to carry his blanket with him also without dragging it over the floor.

When they get into the bedroom and Taemin all but slams the door shut, he dumps Jonghyun’s stuff onto his bedside table and then turns to look at him again, holding him an arm’s length away by his shoulders. He looks fucking _terrible_. Bruised, swollen, tired, messy, the beginnings of a nosebleed that’s probably the result of being half dragged through his own house. And Taemin thought he was lying.

“I’m so fucking sorry,” he breathes. He steps forward and almost pulls Jonghyun against his chest for a hug; he only stops with a sharp hiss when Jonghyun makes the tiniest noise of protest and lifts his hands. Taemin hesitates, grips Jonghyun’s arms, walks backwards, and tugs Jonghyun with him until he can sit down at the foot of the bed. There, he wraps his arms around Jonghyun’s hips and nuzzles his face in his stomach, squeezing him tight and whispering out more apologies. Jonghyun’s hand pets through his hair and pokes his cheeks.

“Come on, hey,” he mumbles. His voice is stuffy and thick. “It hurts to smile.”

_“It’s not funny,_ ” Taemin hisses. He lifts his head up just enough to frown up at Jonghyun. The tiny smile on his lips does nothing to help his distress. “You fucking--I didn’t trust you but you were _actually hurt_ and I just told you to fuck off, like--” He should have known better. Jonghyun is the last person that would _ever_ try something that fucked up as a joke. He doesn’t know _how_ he didn’t believe--

“Tae,” Jonghyun says tiredly. “It was late. And April Fool’s day. Literally no one else believed me at first either.” Jonghyun gently pushes Taemin’s bangs out of his eyes; Taemin shakes them back into his face with a pout.

“Really?” he asks, and Jonghyun snorts, and then winces, and then nods.

“Yeah,” he says. “I had to send Kibum a fucking snap of my bloody ass face in the hospital to get him to believe me. And then he yelled at me for sending him a gross pic. After he demanded that I send him one in the first place.” He shakes his head fondly, but Taemin keeps pouting. He doesn’t see what other people’s reactions have to do with his.

“I’m still sorry,” he mumbles, pushing his face back into Jonghyun’s stomach with a sigh. He’s disappointed in himself. The blanket Jonghyun carried with him is getting in the way of his nuzzling; Taemin frowns, leans back, and unwraps it from Jonghyun’s waist. Then he hesitates, and then just lies back over the bed and tugs it over himself instead. He wants to wallow in his shame. There’s a dip in the bed next to him and then a hand on his arm; he wiggles under Jonghyun’s gentle touch.

“Do you want me to kick them out?” Jonghyun asks. Taemin groans. No. He doesn’t want that. Jinki and Gwiboon didn’t come all the way here _just_ to make fun of him. And Kibum is Jonghyun’s best friend; he has to be actually worried about him.

“No,” he mumbles. He wanted to snuggle Jonghyun in here away from everyone else, but obviously Jonghyun wants to go talk to them all. He’ll wallow in here for a while and come back down when he feels like he can face people again. Jonghyun pats him gently.

“Are you gonna become a super crab again?” he asks. This time Taemin scrunches up his face. He hates when Jonghyun calls his defense mechanisms crabby. He hates it because it’s true and he can’t deny it. He reaches out of the blankets with one hand and pinches Jonghyun’s leg with a huff. He will shut himself down and block everyone out and be an aloof asshole if he wants to, just like he’s done for the better part of his life since he was ten. People can’t mock him for having emotions if he doesn’t allow himself to feel any. And he’s usually crabby around anyone other than Jonghyun and Jinki anyway. “Alright, well,” Jonghyun says, and his hand rubs soothingly over Taemin’s side. “If you’re not okay by dinner I’ll come get you.” He pats Taemin a final time and moves to get up.

“Wait,” Taemin says quickly. Before he spends the next however long feeling like an asshole, he wiggles his hand out from under the covers again. Jonghyun hums in question and allows Taemin to latch onto his hand and pull it under with him. Taemin nuzzles his cheek against Jonghyun’s palm and sighs slowly. “I missed you,” he mumbles, and presses a tiny kiss to Jonghyun’s fingers. Jonghyun stills for just a second; then Taemin hears him whisper a sharp _“frick,_ ” his hand whips out of the covers, and quick footsteps are the last thing he hears before the bedroom door opens and then slams shut again.

4  
When Jinki folds up and lowers the last section of today’s newspaper, he lowers it to reveal Taemin’s hand creeping onto his plate and towards his last piece bacon.

“Hey,” he says, and swats Taemin’s hand away with the newspaper. Taemin hisses and rubs his hand; Jinki breaks the bacon in two and gives Taemin one half.

“Thanks,” Taemin mumbles, and shoves the whole thing into his mouth at once. Jinki rolls his eyes before he notices the phone Taemin’s other hand is holding. Hmm. He must have borrowed it from Kibum again. Jinki looks away, uninterested, but then immediately does a doubletake, _very_ interested. He doesn’t _mean_ to snoop on Taemin’s business, but that is just. A literal diagram of a human anus on the screen.

“Okay,” Jinki says, and fixes his glasses up on his nose. “Last time I checked, the anatomy of an asshole wasn’t exactly an acceptable mealtime topic.” He pokes Taemin’s side with his newspaper; Taemin blinks, glances at him, looks back to the phone, and clicks it asleep quickly.

“Mind your own business,” he huffs. Jinki snorts. He saw the title of that page.

“Do you really need a diagram to help you find the prostate?” he asks. “I’m sure Jonghyun already knows where his is. You just--”

“Jinki,” Taemin says loudly, or, as loudly as he can be when he never raises his voice above a sleepy murmur. “Do not talk about Jonghyun’s prostate.” His face twists in a grimace as Jinki’s twists into a smirk. He loves messing with his teenager’s awkwardness with sex stuff.

“Like, I know I told you to research it last month, but,” he says. “You just--” He lifts his hand and wiggles his two first fingers together for two seconds until Taemin hisses and slaps his hand away.

_“Stop that,”_ he snaps. He huffs, straightens his jacket, huffs again, and frowns fully up at Jinki. “Why are you even acting like you know jack shit about anal anyway,” he grumbles. “You’re straight.”

“I am not _straight,_ ” Jinki says, wrinkles his nose because the word offends him. He is offended. “I just like vagina,” he says. Like, yeah, maybe he has never had any experience with anal before in his life, but not because he’s _straight._ Ew. He could’ve sworn he told Taemin he was pan before. And he had to have noticed _some_ of his choice not girl babes in the passed year and a half. Joon, at least. He went to the movies with them one time, and Jinki totally fucked him in the bathroom. Taemin was there that day.

“Okay, literally,” Taemin says, and Jinki cocks a brow when he sees the scowl on his lips. “Literally never say the word ‘vagina’ to me ever again.”

There is a silence; Jinki props his chin in his hand, greatly amused at how disgusted Taemin looks by the technical term like he wasn’t just studying a scientific diagram of an anus. Jinki lets the quiet stretch on as he reaches for his glass of ice water and takes a slow sip. He puts it down, licks his lips, picks something out from under his thumbnail, looks back to Taemin, and opens his mouth.

“Vagina,” he says.

Taemin gets up and walks away.

 

5  
Taemin just… really likes leaves. They’re so soft. So cute. So important. He plays with a little group that’s close to the ground, close to his hand, smiling softly. The veins of the leaves are his favorite parts. He rubs his thumb over the little ridges gently, so as to not hurt the plant. The gentle stimulation makes their fresh smell stronger and he breathes deeply, happy where he is at this moment.

The sound of the back door opening and closing draws his attention away from the leaves. It’s Taeyeon; of course it’s Taeyeon. Jonghyun left him out here to go back to work half an hour ago, and even though Taemin spent two months cleaning and weeding and repainting everything in this little back area, it still barely sees any use other than when Jonghyun puts on his little music shows on Saturdays. That doesn’t stop Taeyeon from coming out here to spend most of her breaks sitting on the edge of the fountain, though. And it _definitely_ doesn’t stop her from tugging Junghee and Gwiboon out with her when they’re here.

Taemin sighs as he listens to their soft conversation and less soft laughter. He just wants to nap. Why can’t those three be all quiet and sleepy like him instead of, like. Cheerful and funny and shit. That’s no way to live. Their voices last for a while, not exactly loud but still at a volume that he can hear, one that’s keeping him awake. He pouts up at the sky with his eyes closed, one arm thrown over them to block out the light. He doesn’t own this area. He can’t kick them out. He has no right to, and that makes him grumpy. He wants to be an old man about it and yell at them to get off of his lawn, but that would make _him_ the asshole here and he doesn’t want to deal with that.

A few minutes into him debating on whether or not it’ll be worth the effort to get up and drag himself back inside, their voices stop. Oh. Well, that’s good then. He smiles against his jacket and takes a deep, contented sigh. Nice.

And then the kissie noises start.

He scrunches up his face as the soft smacks of lips and gentle rustles reach his ears, quiet murmurs that he can’t make out but still knows are way too mushy and romantic for his liking. This time, when he sighs, it’s as he’s pushing himself up and shuffling to stand up straight. Fine. He admits defeat. A quick glance at the three of them tells him they’re so absorbed in each other that they don’t hear him. He fluffs his fingers through his hair, fixes his jacket, and starts shuffling towards the door.

“Your tag is sticking out,” he mumbles as he passes, reaching over to poke Junghee’s neck just above the tag that is indeed sticking out of her leather jacket. She squeaks, jumps, detaches her lips from Taeyeon’s shoulder, and turns around with a red-cheeked glare; Taemin smirks at her and the other two as he continues towards the door. He’s pretty sure Taeyeon accidentally bit Gwiboon’s lip, if the way Gwi is pouting and poking it gently means anything. He’s proud of himself.

“Your butt has dirt on it,” Junghee calls after him, but it’s a halfhearted, lukewarm insult at best. Taemin’s smile grows as he tugs open the back door and lets himself back into the motel.

Shuffling passed the dining area and the staircase, he peeps around the corner to see if Jonghyun is at the desk. He is; Taemin smiles and slouches all the way over there, invites himself behind the counter, and eases himself into a lean against Jonghyun’s back.

“Hi,” he mumbles, nuzzling Jonghyun’s neck. Jonghyun hums in reply, focused on some boring official looking thing on his computer. Taemin lets his eyes slide shut as he waits for him to finish. It’s another few minutes, but eventually, he feels Jonghyun turning in his arms. He opens his eyes back up just in time to close them again when Jonghyun leans up for a soft kiss.

“Hey,” he says. “Why’d you come back in?”

“Gwi and Jung and Tae,” Taemin mumbles, shrugging a little. “Did you know that kiss noises are like. So obnoxious. When you’re not the one making them?” He gets now why no one else in the gang likes when he gives Jonghyun slow, soft kissies when they’re all out together. It’s fucking annoying. Jonghyun laughs softly and reaches up to fix his hair.

“Did Tae at least eat first?” he asks. “She always skips lunch and then whines at me that she’s tired and hungry later.” He frowns at the back door through the wall, a mixture of annoyance and genuine concern. Taemin shrugs; he doesn’t think he heard any food noises, but he was trying to block all of the noise out for a good portion of the time. Jonghyun sighs and pushes him away gently. “I’m gonna go check,” he says. “She still has a while left on break.” He tries to leave Taemin completely, but Taemin tightens his grip around his shoulders.

“Stay here,” he whines. He smells so good and his skin is so soft and he’s so lovely and warm. Taemin leans down to kiss him softly as extra persuasion. Jonghyun breaks the kiss quickly, but only to glance around the lobby and make sure no one is there to watch. Then, he smiles and accepts the petulant kisses Taemin is pressing along his jawline, allowing Taemin to capture his mouth once more.

“Maybe for a few more minutes,” he hums. Taemin smiles. Nice. He wraps one arm more around Jonghyun’s shoulders and moves the other around his waist; Jonghyun slips both of his arms around Taemin’s lower back and moves one down to his butt. “Have I mentioned, lately,” he murmurs against Taemin’s lips. “How your butt is--is.” Taemin feels him frown and pull away, feels his hand lift off of his butt. He opens his eyes, confused, to see that little furrow between Jonghyun’s brows as he looks at his hand. “How your butt is covered in dirt,” he says, nose wrinkling.

Oh.

Taemin halfheartedly twists to get a look at his butt. He can't really see anything, but Jonghyun shakes his head and wipes his hand on Taemin’s jacket.

‘You’re gross,” he pouts, pushing Taemin away. “Go change your pants.”

“But, Jonghyun,” Taemin whines. They can make out without the butt touching. That’s still good. Jonghyun shakes his head again, though, and pushes him gently away. “Shoo,” he says. “I have work to do.” He makes flappy hands at Taemin until Taemin sighs and stuffs his hands in his pockets, walking himself and his dirty butt to the door to Jonghyun’s floor.

While he’s fumbling with his keys, he catches Junghee’s eye through the back window. She pauses in her attempts to slip her hand under Taeyeon’s shirt and throws him a smug grin, complete with an eyebrow twitch and a booty wiggle. He huffs, not amused at all by how she somehow knows exactly what just happened, and grumps through Jonghyun’s living room and into his bedroom for a new pair of sweats.


	9. five times jonghyun was soft (E)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Hi,” Jonghyun says.
> 
> “Hey,” Taemin says back. The way Jonghyun’s smile quirks up a tiny bit more makes an emotion happen in Taemin’s chest so he looks down, pushes his bag into a more secure position, and pushes his fingers through his hair so he can hide it.
> 
> **tw for talks about abusive parents and also parent death**

****1  
Jinki smothers a yawn into his hand as he takes his first steps up the stairs. It’s just passing five o’clock, but it feels much later to him. He’s nearing twenty-seven and if this whole getting tired early thing is what being an adult is about then he’s going to really start having some doubts about the whole concept of adulthood in general. Rubbing his hand up to smooth back his mussed helmet hair from his face, he shakes his head and continues up to the second floor of the motel. Bluh. It’s probably just because he spent all day flirting up that Joon babe at the movies. All that staring at big screens and arcade machines and sloppy makeouts just tired him out. He hates to admit it but Yunho was right.

As he steps out onto the warm carpet at the top of the stairs, he pats his back pocket to make sure he still has his room key. Number seven, he’s pretty sure. After a quick scan of the hallway to remember which side he’s on, his attention is drawn to someone else up here with him by the quiet humming of a slow tune.

It’s the cleaning boy, pushing his cart out of room number three and tugging the door closed gently behind him. Or, well, cleaning boy slash kitchen boy slash garage peeper slash anxious mess, Jinki guesses. Jonghyun. That was his name. He’s had a lot of jobs here this passed summer. He and his sister must have still not gotten around to hiring much more help since they’ve been on their own.

When Jonghyun glances up and catches his eye Jinki realizes that he was staring. He smiles quickly, before Jonghyun can look away anxiously but not before he cuts his humming short, and starts walking to his room again. Jonghyun pushes his cleaning cart towards him, keeping close to the wall as he scoots to the next room, heavily silent. Jinki smiles politely again as he approaches even though Jonghyun is avoiding eye contact. He looks tired, worn out, and Jinki admires his strength. He’s doing his best.

Jonghyun stops his cart outside of room number one and reaches for his keys. Jinki passes him just in time to hear them dropping on the floor. He turns on instinct, looking down for them while Jonghyun hisses a soft curse.

“Oh,” he says, and automatically bends to grab them. “Here,” he says, straightening up and holding them out. He doesn’t know why he was expecting Jonghyun to be looking at him and not blushing, but Jonghyun isn’t doing either of those things and it’s kind of endearing.

“Thanks,” he says to the floor, reaching a shy hand over to take his keys. When they leave Jinki’s hand he moves it to Jonghyun’s waist, a light, comforting touch.

“You okay?” he asks softly. He knows this kid is a bundle of nerves and he wants Jonghyun to know that he doesn’t have to be around him. Or at least as much. Jonghyun sucks in a quick breath when Jinki touches him, but he still looks up, round doe eyes meeting Jinki’s hesitantly for just a second.

“Yeah,” he breathes. He takes a step back, nodding his head politely, fingers curling tightly around his keys. “Thank you,” he says again. His voice shakes but his fingers don’t fumble with the keys as he finds the right one. “Have a nice night,” he says, with the tiniest attempt at a smile. Jinki smiles as warmly as he can back, sliding his hands into his jacket pockets.

“You too,” he hums. He turns and continues to his room, slipping inside quietly and shrugging off his jacket. He throws it on the hook by the door next to Yunho’s, washes up in the bathroom, and slides into his side of the bed, pulling the covers up high.

A little while later, while he’s making slow progress through the fantasy book he bought last month, he hears Jonghyun’s cleaning cart wheeling up to the room across from his. Soft humming accompanies it and Jinki smiles.

 

2 (nc-17)  
“Fuck, oh, fuck, oh fuck, oh my god, Taem--”

Taemin loves this, loves how unrestrained and raw Jonghyun gets when his tongue is fucking deep into his ass. He presses his face in closer, breathing deep the smell of sweat and sex, nails digging into the backs of Jonghyun’s thighs as he exhales hot breaths over his hole. He laves his tongue over it and pushes it in easily, so fucking easily because Jonghyun is so fucking open and eager for him right now. He hasn’t stopped talking this whole time except to hiss, to moan or whine loudly, to suck in harsh breaths.

Taemin isn’t listening much to his words as he is his voice, breathless and ruined, high and pleading one moment and rough and demanding the next. Everything he does between Jonghyun’s legs is to spur more of that on. He loves Jonghyun’s voice in his ears, his hands clenched tight in his hair, his skin hot under his fingertips. He loves being the one to make Jonghyun like this and he loves pulling out every noise and grunt he can from him. He kisses and sucks on Jonghyun’s rim, pulling off with wet smacks and hot breaths, pressing his tongue deep inside every time he touches his lips back.

His knees are starting to hurt from kneeling at the edge of the bed to do this but he doesn’t care, not when Jonghyun pants and grunts and holds his head close. Sticky strawberry lube is smeared on his lips and cheeks and chin, all that’s left of what he poured out onto Jonghyun’s hole earlier. By now he’s licked it all up and is only tasting Jonghyun’s sweat and skin. He loves it even more than the lube and savors every touch of it against his tongue. All he’s experiencing right now is _Jonghyun_ and he could honestly do this for hours.

“Tae, T-Taemin,” Jonghyun breathes. His voice is thick, his fingers tugging at Taemin’s hair. Jonghyun alternates between pulling him up and pressing him back close, hips rolling up to meet his mouth, but he starts pulling harder than before. “Taem,” he whispers, a soft whine following it. Taemin pulls away, but only far enough to mouth at Jonghyun’s inner thigh instead, biting and sucking at his sensitive skin just to feel the way he twitches. He looks up at Jonghyun from between his legs, catching his wet eyes with his own and holding them.

“What?” he says, voice quiet but commanding. He doesn’t have time for Jonghyun to whimper and struggle right now. “What do you want?” he asks. He drags his lips to the crook of Jonghyun’s thigh, nuzzling against his cock, pressing slow kisses to it and sucking gently at his balls. Jonghyun hisses, jerks up, grips his hair even tighter.

“Fuck me, please, I want you to fuck me,” he breathes. “I want your cock, I need y--”

“No,” Taemin says. He shakes his head against Jonghyun’s loud whine. “Don’t feel like it,” he mumbles. He’s not in the mood to get his own dick involved. He doesn’t even have a semi right now and he doesn’t really feel like getting it up at all. He lifts his hands to rub his thumbs over the creases of Jonghyun’s thighs, knead the skin and pull his ass wider open. His hole glistens and twitches, looking so fucking perfect and gorgeous right in front of his eyes. “I wanna,” he says, and presses a hot, open-mouthed kiss flush against it. “Wanna eat you out,” he breathes. Sliding his arms around Jonghyun’s thighs, he holds them close as he goes in again, wanting to feel them around his head, soft and warm.

“Mmmmmmhh,” Jonghyun groans. It’s half a pleasured moan, half a frustrated whine, and he tugs at Taemin’s hair again. “Finger me then, Taemin, please,” he begs. “I wanna come, I need, need something inside me, you can eat me out after, just--come on, I want you to make me--”

“Yeah?” Taemin asks quietly. He looks up again, licking spit and sweat off of his lips. “What, you can’t come just from this?” he asks. Not believable. “You didn’t have a problem with this last month,” he says. Last month Jonghyun sat himself down on Taemin’s face and came in less than five minutes of Taemin laving his tongue over his sweet hole. “Now you need more?” Taemin asks, sliding his hands up the backs of Jonghyun’s thighs. He can give Jonghyun more.

He stands up, cutting off Jonghyun’s pleading little whine by scooping him up around the waist and dropping him off at the other end of the bed. He’s on the bed himself in no time, fitting himself between Jonghyun’s legs, pushing them wider open with hands on his knees. The lube from before rolls with the dip of the bed and bumps his leg so he picks it up, leaning over Jonghyun with his weight on his other hand to press their mouths flush together. Jonghyun groans against him, panting hot breaths against his lips, weakly struggling to kiss back. Even like this Taemin can’t get enough of his taste and he pushes his tongue into Jonghyun’s mouth easily, savoring every moment, pulling Jonghyun’s own spit into his mouth to swallow.

As soon as he pops the lube open with one hand and turns it over above Jonghyun’s hole, he takes his mouth away from Jonghyun’s lips and instead kisses his cheek, his jaw, his neck, under his ear.

“You’re greedy today, aren’t you?” he breathes, rubbing the lube around Jonghyun’s hole, between his cheeks, over his leaking cock. “You need this?” He twists two fingers inside, all the way in, pumping them in and out right from the start. Jonghyun gasps sharply, lets it out in a slow hiss, grips Taemin’s arms and digs his nails in through his jacket.

“Fuck, yes,” he hisses. “More, Taem, fuck--”

“More?” Taemin asks. “You want more, you need me stretching you open wider, hmm?” He waits for Jonghyun to suck in a sharp breath to say something before he pushes a third finger in, cutting him off. All that comes out of his mouth is a broken little noise, and when Taemin pushes his pinky in as well, Jonghyun’s head tilts against the pillows, a low moan escaping towards the ceiling, a slack smile on his mouth. “Good, right?” Taemin hums. He twists his free hand in Jonghyun’s hair to keep him from nodding, holding his head back so he can press his lips to his throat. He pumps his fingers in and out of Jonghyun’s ass slowly, spreading them apart and opening him up wide.

“You gonna come from this?” he asks. He bites Jonghyun’s neck gently but sucks harshly, up high where he won’t be able to hide the hickey. He knows that Jonghyun has taken to poking and pressing on the bruises he leaves while he’s gone to make them last. He’s not going to deny him that. “Gonna come this quickly?” he breathes. He stretches and crooks his fingers skillfully, feeling Jonghyun’s harsh breathing under him.

“Tae--fuck, I’m--you’re--” Every time Jonghyun tries to start a sentence he cuts himself off with a sharp breath, a low grunt. He can’t even make words right now; he really is about to jizz this early. Usually he can answer a few more questions before he dissolves into huffs and curses. Taemin is used to finding Jonghyun’s prostate with two fingers but feeling it out with four is no problem, especially with Jonghyun gripping at his bicep and grinding his hips up into his hand, telling him how close he is with his actions.

It’s not long before Taemin has him falling apart, gasping in short breaths with no sounds in between them. Taemin’s left hand has always been clumsy but Jonghyun jerks himself off, sloppy and slick with lube, until he hits his orgasm. His face scrunches, mouth open, eyebrows furrowing, eyes shut tight, a gorgeous babe as he covers his own stomach in white.

Taemin presses soft lips to his jaw as he calms down, rubbing his fingers soothingly over the back of his head. With his other hand he rubs slowly over Jonghyun’s prostate still, to make him twitch and gasp and giggle through the tail end of his high. He keeps doing that until Jonghyun lifts his hand from his soft cock finally and pokes at his wrist.

“‘M done,” he mumbles, his other hand lifting weakly to hold Taemin’s shoulder. Taemin hums back, easing his fingers out of Jonghyun’s ass. He wipes them on Jonghyun’s boxers that never quite got all the way off of the bed and lets Jonghyun kiss him softly.

“Can I eat you out still?” he asks, rubbing his thumb in slow circles over Jonghyun’s thigh. Jonghyun laughs, a quiet, breathy chuckle against his lips, and nods, pushing him gently down.

“Yeah,” he says. “Go for it.”

“Thanks,” Taemin breathes, and presses a quick kiss to his cheek before he slides off of the end of the bed again. He takes Jonghyun’s hips and pulls him close, nuzzles against his thighs and spreads his ass open again. His whole glistens and twitches right in front of his eyes, just like before, and Taemin bites his lip before leaning in and pushing his tongue inside.

 

3  
As soon as Taemin stops his bike in the parking lot, he can already see through the windows that Jonghyun is behind the front desk. He sighs, scrunching away his pout before he pulls off his helmet. There’s one real reason that Taemin hates Jonghyun’s whole new confidence-and-talking-to-people thing and this is it. He can’t snuggle a babe that has to talk to people.

He fluffs his fingers through his hair and twists so he can stuff his helmet neatly into his bag, then leans grumpily on his dash as Jinki and Changmin go inside to get room keys and parking passes from everyone. He watches out of the corner of his eye as Jonghyun smiles and nods and types in everyone’s info with his left hand. He’s so cute.

When Jinki comes back he slips Taemin’s parking pass onto his motorcycle handle for him and holds up a handful of keys.

“Seven or nine or eleven?” he asks, wiggling them all. Taemin hums, looking between them with a shrug. They’re all on the same side. He takes the one for room seven with a little mumble of thanks. Stuffing it in his jacket pocket, he leans back on the dash of his bike and waits for everyone else to roll into the parking garage ahead of him. Once it’s clear, he putts up himself, turning at the entrance and slowly backing himself into the closest spot. He thinks after he gets settled into his room he’s gonna get himself some chips from the vending machine and sit outside for a little bit. Jonghyun will come to him eventually, probably.

He turns off his bike, steps off, and twists to grab his bag and pull it over his shoulder. Looking up, his eyes pass over the back of the garage, the employee door, a few other cars, and--

He stops, doing a doubletake, when the employee door pops open. Jonghyun pops out a moment later, soft brown hair falling into his eyes as he looks behind him and leans against the door to close it gently. He flicks it away from his face as he looks back up and scans the garage. When his eyes lock onto Taemin’s a smile spreads over his lips.

Taemin drops his bag back onto his bike.

“Hi,” Jonghyun says.

“Hey,” Taemin says back. The way Jonghyun’s smile quirks up a tiny bit more makes an _emotion_ happen in Taemin’s chest so he looks down, pushes his bag into a more secure position, and pushes his fingers through his hair so he can hide it. That’s been happening a lot lately and it’s starting to get annoying. He just wants to say hi to his boyfriend in peace. He walks forward, rubbing his sleeve over his nose and only looking up when he’s close enough to place his hands on Jonghyun’s waist.

“Shouldn’t you be working, kid?” he asks quietly, meeting Jonghyun’s eyes through his bangs. He was literally just working, like, a minute ago, but now he’s here. This hardly seems responsible. Jonghyun reaches up to push his hair out of his face, then cups his chin with a warm hand and leans up to press a kiss to his lips. Taemin leans forward when he tries to pull away, wanting to prolong it just for a few seconds, and sucks lightly on his bottom lip just to hear him hum.

“Sis gave me ten minutes,” Jonghyun says when Taemin lets him go. His eyes are hooded, lazy, and he slips his hands around to play with the fluff of Taemin’s undercut. “I wanted to see you,” he says.

“Hmm,” Taemin hums. He guesses that’s acceptable. Jonghyun isn’t ditching for him; just taking an approved break that won’t get him into trouble and guilt. Taemin can’t say that he’s not happy. Quite the opposite, actually; he feels warm on the inside knowing that Jonghyun couldn’t wait to see him.

That warmth turns into an emotion again and he presses his fingers into Jonghyun’s sides, leaning down to kiss him again so he doesn’t notice. Jonghyun smiles into it, kisses staying simple and soft, before he pulls away again. This time he gently pushes on Taemin’s chest so Taemin steps away from the wall. Taemin does, keeping his hands on Jonghyun’s waist, and lets Jonghyun turn them in a half circle. Jonghyun pushes own on his shoulders next, just a gentle pressure, and Taemin obeys easily, sitting himself down in the parking spot next to the door.

“I missed you,” Jonghyun says as he lowers himself into Taemin’s lap. He’s open and honest and Taemin nods, the smallest smile pulling up the corners of his mouth. He knows.

“Thanks,” he says, and tugs Jonghyun closer so their bodies press together, his arms around Jonghyun’s waist and his face nuzzled in his chest. His whole body feels warm, even warmer when Jonghyun presses a soft kiss to his hair. He can feel a steady heartbeat under him and presses minutely closer for more. He missed Jonghyun too.

 

4  
Taemin wakes with a start, and then heavy, shaky breath, eyes snapping open to the darkness of the room. He then pushes his own hand through his hair, feeling sweat and scrunching up his face in distaste. What the fuck. That nightmare came out of nowhere. As he gains back more of his senses he feels his thudding heartbeat, his hot head, his too fast breathing, the recognizable rush of adrenaline pumping through him and making his chest tight.

He also becomes aware of a hand on his bicep, and a soft voice calling his name.

“Tae… Taemin.” His instinctive reaction is to start and jerk away, hissing sharply in shock; he knew that it was Jonghyun from the start but it only registers after another moment. It’s Jonghyun, he thinks, and he’s safe, and things are good. He lowers his arm back down and shifts, turning slowly to lie on his side. The dim blue glow of Jonghyun’s nightlight gives him just enough light to see Jonghyun’s worried eyes, his bottom lip between his teeth. “You were having a nightmare,” he whispers. Taemin breathes out slowly, trying to force his body to be calm, and nods.

“Yeah,” he mumbles back. He noticed. He watches Jonghyun look down, curl his fingers into the sheets, and look back up.

“Are you… okay?” he asks. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

“Mmmh… yeah,” Taemin says to the first question. He’s fully aware of how not okay he is, but he gives Jonghyun the lie because he will be better soon, and also because, “no,” he says to the second. He shakes his head minutely. “It was just,” he says. He closes his eyes and sees, just for a moment, flashes of his dream, of things that actually happened, of memories. “Parents,” he says quietly. He doesn’t want to talk about them now. Or ever.

“Okay,” Jonghyun whispers. He reaches out to fix Taemin’s hair, or to pull up his blanket, maybe just to give him a reassuring pat, but Taemin draws away uncomfortably.

“I don’t,” he mumbles, not meeting Jonghyun’s eyes. “I don’t really want to be touched,” he says. “Right now.” He feels clammy and gross. He can’t handle any more heat, any more weight, any more physical intimacy when he’s like this. Jonghyun nods, but Taemin sees his face fall in the darkness. He closes his eyes so he doesn’t have to look and sighs slowly. Jonghyun just wants to help. Taemin knows. He wants to accept it, wants to hold Jonghyun and nuzzle him, or at least let him know that he doesn’t have to feel bad, but every cell in his body is telling him not to. He’s curling in on himself, shutting down, blocking things out, dulling his emotions; twenty-something years of defense mechanisms have sprung back to life more than usual at the harsh reminder of his past.

It’s kind of garbage that even when he’s fully aware of what his brain is doing he still can’t make it stop. He just wants the panic pulsing through his body to stop so he can go back to sleep and forget about this in the morning.

“Um,” Jonghyun says softly. Taemin feels the bed moving and cracks open his eyes; as soon as he does, Jonghyun flicks on his lamp and he scrunches them shut again. What the fuck. Jonghyun quickly clicks the lamp through to its dimmest setting, a dull glow that Taemin can open his eyes to. Jonghyun’s back is to him when his eyes adjust. He’s bent over the edge of his bed, and it sounds like he’s fumbling in his bedside table cabinet. “Um,” he says again when he straightens back up. He sits up straight, a dark little bundle in his arms. “If I can’t… hold you, then, um. Maybe you can…?” He holds the bundle out, up in the light, and Taemin sees what it is.

It’s a little dog.

Or, well, a stuffed dog. A fuzzy little dachshund, dark brown and light brown patches, with shiny little bead eyes. Taemin looks at it, and at Jonghyun behind it, small and hesitant. Oh.

“This is--uh--well, her short name is Roo,” Jonghyun says, one thumb rubbing over her tummy. “She helps me when I have nightmares, so, I mean….” He holds her out a little further towards Taemin. Taemin hesitates before reaching out himself to take the little pup into his arm. He just holds her for a second, taking in her slightly worn appearance, before bringing her close and tucking her under his chin. Small and soft, it feels remarkably familiar to having Jonghyun himself next to him. She even smells like him.

“Thanks,” Taemin mumbles, squeezing her close. This is good. Having someone under his arm is good. Jonghyun is smiling a little smile, proud and relieved; Taemin can’t make himself smile back but he knows that Jonghyun doesn’t mind. “Why…,” he says slowly, lowering his eyes to the sheets to conserve energy. “What’s her full name?” he asks. He’s never met a stuffed animal that had a short name before.

“Oh. Um. Well.” Jonghyun’s voice is even smaller now; he turns his lamp off before he says more and Taemin knows it was just so his blush would be hidden. “When I was younger, um, we had a little pup, you know?” he says. In the darkness he shuffles back under the covers, lying down and tugging them up to his shoulders. Taemin watches his features in the quiet glow of his nightlight. “You’ve seen the pictures. A dachshund, and her name was Roo,” he says quietly. “But also when I was little, she, um….” He takes a quick breath and lets it out slowly. “Anyway, um,” he says. “After, I was really beat up about it, so my mom got me… her.” He reaches out to poke the toy’s little head. Taemin’s eyes slide shut, but he nods to show that he’s listening.

“And me, being, like, ten,” Jonghyun says, “named her Roo Two.” His voice changes just slightly enough for Taemin to know that a quick little smile pulled at his lips. Adorable. “So that was like… R2, right? Like… you know, um. R2D2.” Now his voice is slightly muffled like he’s embarrassed. Taemin muffles his own weak snort into Roo’s velvet fur. Alright then. “So,” Jonghyun says. “I wanted to call her R2D2, but I needed a reason for the ‘D,’ so. Her full name is, um.” He takes another deep breath and lets it out heavily. “Roo Two Dog Two,” he mutters quickly.

Sometimes, Taemin really, really loves Jonghyun.

“It’s a cute name,” he says.

“Ah.” Jonghyun hums, mumbles nonsense words, makes an embarrassed kind of noise. “Yeah,” he says. He doesn’t think it’s cute. Taemin doesn’t feel like insisting; he doesn’t really feel like anything. He wants to go back to sleep. Squeezing Roo closer to him, he nuzzles her under his nose and sighs slowly, trying to relax his body. This always takes forever. The soft shuffling noises of Jonghyun getting comfortable reach him but he doesn’t respond. Nightmares like that one always fuck him up for at least a few days. He hopes that in the morning he’s able to at least hold Jonghyun and give him simple, nonverbal affection.

Behind his closed lids, he tries to pull good images into his mind. Riding down a long stretch of sunny highway… big, warm breakfasts of bacon and fruit… a grey sky above with vibrant green plants surrounding him… parking in the garage and turning around to find Jonghyun waiting for him.... Jonghyun… Jonghyun’s parents… his parents. Taemin’s eyebrows furrow as his thoughts start to wander off into unwanted territory. Jonghyun’s mother got him a stuffed animal to ease his pain. Taemin would be lucky to get a look from his mother without pain following it.

He flinches slightly at the thought, squeezes his eyes tighter, and lets out his breath in a slow sigh.

Shaking that moment off, he keeps trying to sleep, breathing deeply the smell of Roo, listening to Jonghyun’s breathing, trying to force his thoughts to be positive, but the longer he struggles, the more he fails. Ugh. This is garbage. He curls his fingers into the toy and takes in a slow breath.

“Jonghyun,” he murmurs into the silence of the room. He’s only going to try this once. If Jonghyun is asleep, Taemin won’t wake--

“Yeah?” Jonghyun whispers back.

Taemin strongly suspects that Jonghyun never even tried to go back to sleep in the first place. He hesitates, not entirely sure that he actually wanted to ask Jonghyun in the first place. Bluh. He already started. Can't go back now.

“You had good parents, right?” he asks. This time Jonghyun hesitates; Taemin can sense it in the short moment of silence before he’s stalling, rustling the bed by changing his position.

“I mean… for the most part, yeah,” he says. Taemin nods, cheek rubbing against his pillow. He hasn’t opened his eyes so he doesn’t know if Jonghyun saw that or not.

“Can you tell me about them?” he asks quietly. Jonghyun is silent again, and Taemin wiggles an inch further under the covers. That was a really personal request. “You don’t have to if--”

“No no, I can,” Jonghyun says quickly. “I’m fine talking about them now.” He pauses again. Taemin hears and feels his next movements bumping his pillow. “I just,” he mumbles. “Don’t know where to start.”

“Mmm.” Taemin hums. Oh. That is a good point. He’s never really heard anything at all about what Jonghyun’s parents were like. He rubs his thumb slowly over the soft fur of the toy in his arms. “Your mom gave you Roo,” he offers.

“Oh--yeah.” Jonghyun’s words seem to almost curve up at the end, his smile audible in his voice. “My mom was… great,” he says. “Really, really great. The best mom. Super lovely. Super pretty. Super supportive.” As he speaks his words turn slightly muffled, like he’s nuzzling into his pillow at the memories. That’s good. That’s cute. “She listened to me and worked really hard for me,” Jonghyun says. “Researched ace and other shit when I came out to her. I was small and kind of a little shit sometimes, but I would always help her with motel stuff if she asked. She deserved breaks.”

“You talk about her like you talk about your sister,” Taemin mumbles. He recognizes the endless praise, the gushing. The loud undertones of his statements that say that Sodam is the best in the world and anyone who disagrees can fight him.

“Yeah, well…,” Jonghyun murmurs. “Both of them are wonderful.” His voice is a pleased sigh. One corner of Taemin’s lips twitches up for just a second. Cute.

“What about your dad?” he asks.

“Ahh,” Jonghyun says. “Mmm.” Taemin hears him shuffling again. “It’s not as simple, with my dad,” Jonghyun mumbles. Taemin hums curiously, but gently, so Jonghyun doesn’t feel pressured to keep talking if it makes him uncomfortable. If there’s one thing that Taemin can relate to, it’s garbage parents.

“I mean,” Jonghyun says. “He was good, I guess. Worked hard. Took us to school things, and made dad jokes and everything.” There are two short shuffles of the bedsheets after that that could have been a shrug. “But… he was also. Pretty shitty. To my mom. Verbally. And to me and sis, about, like, what we wanted to do with our lives.” He pauses, and Taemin hears a little smack of his lips like he opened his mouth to say something, but stopped. Another moment passes, and then, “me especially,” he sighs.

“Because I wanted to do music,” he says. “And compose, and write lyrics, and sing, and everything. And I guess he just… didn’t like that. For whatever reason. He never gave me any concrete evidence or reasoning for it or alternatives against it, just… that I shouldn’t do it. And… I mean, we fought a lot about it. It never got _really_ bad, because, he died, but. I know that... it _would have_ if we kept going.” He pauses again, but this time it feels more natural, like he’s figuring out what he wants to say. “It’s…,” he says eventually. His breath is a little shaky, but he continues. “A little fucked up, but,” he says. “Sometimes… I’m glad… that he died… _before_ I could really hate him.”

Taemin slides his hand slowly over the bed between them, finding Jonghyun’s wrist and following it up. He still doesn’t want to be touched, but he separates Jonghyun’s pointer finger from the rest and kind of just holds on to it. He doesn’t think that he’s the first person Jonghyun has told his too, but he’s sure that it’s a deep and important secret still. He’s glad that Jonghyun trusted him with it.

“It’s not fucked up,” he says quietly. “It makes sense.” Sometimes Taemin wishes that he never got to meet his own parents in the first place. Then maybe he would actually be able to pretend that they were good people.

“Thanks,” Jonghyun whispers. Taemin squeezes his finger gently in reply. Then he grimaces into his pillow; comparing Jonghyun’s dad problems to his dad problems wasn’t what he wanted to do here. He still just wants to sleep.

“Tell me more about your mom?” he asks. He doesn’t think Jonghyun gushing about his mom will bring up any more bad memories of his own.

Jonghyun agrees easily, starting a story about his mom from when he was younger, and Taemin listens to his soothing voice. Every so often he gets a flash from his nightmare, a hot pulse of adrenaline, but for the most part, he relaxes. It’s strange, almost; he doesn’t think much time has passed since he woke up at all. Normally he’d still be wide awake, clenching his blankets close and trying to force out the memories. Jinki has been there sometimes, but he usually slept through the nightmares anyway. Taemin has never had anyone to actually help soothe him back to sleep before.

As he dozes off to Jonghyun’s soft words, he rubs his thumb over Jonghyun’s knuckle affectionately, glad that he’s here.

 

5  
“Alright, thank you,” Jonghyun smiles, taking his change from the cashier and immediately dropping it all into the tip jar. The way their smile twitches up to be a tiny bit more genuine makes him feel warm and fuzzy on the inside. He loves that shit. He picks up his frozen yogurt, taking a little pink spoon with him and turning to follow Jinki to two free bar stools that line the counter along the side of this small shop in the mall. Taemin is still filling up his large cup with different flavors of froyo and he shakes his head fondly as he passes. He loves him, too.

He grabs a napkin from the box on the table as he sits, but when he tries to flap it out dramatically, it slips from his fingers and flutters to the floor.

“Oh, shit,” he hisses, putting his froyo down so he can grab it. Before he can, he sees Jinki doing it for him, bending down easily and plucking it off of the floor.

“Here,” Jinki says, holding it out with an amused little smirk. Jonghyun smothers his own embarrassed smile in his hand before he reaches out to take it himself.

“Thanks,” he says. When the napkin leaves Jinki’s hand, he reaches forward and touches Jonghyun’s waist lightly.

“You okay?” he asks, his voice that low, comforting hum it gets when he’s genuinely concerned for someone, even over the little things. Jonghyun smiles, nods, and opens his mouth to say “yeah, thanks” before he’s struck with a sudden sense of familiarity. This has happened before. Years ago. Kind of. He remembers--and, he also remembers the months that followed it. Instead of answering Jinki, he gasps loudly, eyes going wide and chest inflating with a big breath.

“Oh my god,” he whispers. Jinki hums, curious, and Jonghyun feels his face curving into a wide smile. “Bruh,” he says. “I jerked off to you for, like, two months once,” he says. He dissolves into little giggles immediately after he says it, every moment spent remembering it funnier than the last.

“I--what?” Jinki asks. “You did not.” He blinks and his eyes go wide in a way that Jonghyun has never seen before and it just makes him laugh harder.

“I _did,_ ” he giggles. “Like, fifteen years ago,” he says, “When I was sixteen.” Fuck, he’s remembering it all perfectly now. It was exactly the same. “I dropped my keys, remember, and you picked them up for me and touched my waist and asked if I was okay, and you were really close, and your voice was so nice, and I just.” He shakes his head, covering his wide smile with the back of his hand, spinning himself back and forth on his bar stool. Holy shit.

“Oh my god,” Jinki says quietly. His incredulous confusion is turning into more of a realization, a memory dawning in his eyes as he stares at Jonghyun. “I remember that, oh my _god,_ ” he says, his own laugh falling from his lips.

“ _Yeah,_ ” Jonghyun hisses. He knew Jinki had to remember. “And, like, back then I had this whole fantasy of like, a hot biker babe taking care of me and fricking me really well, and usually he was faceless, but for a little while, because you said, like, three words to me one time, _your_ face was there instead.” He bites his lip just thinking about it, about him imagining Jinki fucking him, and feels his whole body scrunching up with laughter at how ridiculous and inaccurate and out of character that fantasy was. What a fucking mess.

“Well, I mean,” Jinki says, and Jonghyun giggles more just seeing his own amused and fond chuckles. “I’m flattered I was your default hot biker for two months,” he says.

“Yeah, no problem,” Jonghyun grins. He runs his fingers through his hair, stray laughs coming out of him every few seconds, the same as Jinki. He can’t believe he forgot about that for so long.

“What are you two laughing about?” Taemin joins them finally, his froyo cup almost overflowing with toppings, and Jonghyun laughs more just seeing it. He doesn’t know how Taemin does that. He shares a quick, amused glance with Jinki before turning back to Taemin and shaking his head.

“Nothing,” he grins. “Just stuff.” He tugs Taemin forward gently to stand between his legs, holding his waist with one hand and picking up his spoon again with his other. Taemin mumbles and grumbles but Jonghyun just pats his hip, nuzzling into his side and trying to calm his giggles. No offense to Jinki, but he likes his current hot biker babe more.


	10. Five times they were blushie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **From: Taemin  
>  Tuesday 4:35pm**  
> jonghyun please explain the nut meme to me

****1  
“Jonghyuuun,” Taemin calls. Whines, more like, raising his voice just loud enough to hopefully be heard upstairs. He pouts to himself as he lays on his stomach on the floor, squinting to see under the couch. He doesn’t know how he lost his swiss army knife under there so easily; he was filing his nails one second, and then the next it was slipping out of his hands and tumbling into the dark void.

“Yeah?” Jonghyun’s voice calls back. Taemin turns his face to face more upwards than downwards when shouts up again.

“Do you have a flashlight somewhere?” he asks.

“Uh,” Jonghyun says. There’s a pause after that, which Taemin assumes is Jonghyun trying to finish whatever cooking task he’s doing up there in the kitchen before he tries to think. He waits patiently, shuffling to his feet and brushing dust off of his clothes. He hears the familiar noise of someone going up the stairs to the motel rooms through the wall and wonders vaguely if the people in the lobby can hear their conversation. “In my bedside table drawer,” Jonghyun calls eventually. “The middle one. In there somewhere.”

“Okay,” Taemin shouts back. He shuffles his way into Jonghyun’s room, flicking the light on as he sits at the edge of his bed. Pulling open the drawer, he peeps inside. Looks like a bunch of stuff. He moves aside a little packet of tissues, a deck of cards, a box of lube and condoms, some cold medicine, cough drops, a magazine with Taemin’s face on it, a--

Wait.

Taemin pauses, pushing a pack of sticky notes back where they first were, and--yeah, that is his own face looking up at him. Huh. Taemin pulls out the magazine, snorting when he remembers the shoot. He still doesn’t get why they had him pose in front of a wall splattered with paint, but at least he looks like a babe. He smiles to himself thinking of Jonghyun having this magazine. He must have just come across it by chance and saved it. That’s cute. Jonghyun is cute. He loves his cute boyfriend.

When he moves to put it back into the drawer, he’s stopped by yet another picture of himself. He pauses again, looks at the magazine in his hands, looks at the one still in the drawer. When he reaches in to grab that one, he realizes that it’s actually just one on top of a whole stack.

“Oh,” he says to himself, and pulls all of them out at once. “Hmm.” This is a sizeable bunch of magazines. He flips through them all to confirm that they’re all of him. Each magazine is either opened to the ads he modeled for or stuck with a little postie note on the right page. Taemin flips through all of them with varying levels of regret--why the _fuck_ did he he take that ramen job--and the occasional fond smile. He’s never actually taken the effort to look up the shit he’s done; some of these he doesn’t look too bad in.

He also finds himself grinning more and more at the fact that these were all just stacked neatly in Jonghyun’s drawer. That his little bub has looked for and bought and saved up every instance of his modeling career. That they were conveniently placed in the drawer right by his bed. The same drawer as his lube and condoms and tissues.

Suspicious.

“Tae?” Jonghyun calls then. Taemin looks up; it sounded like Jonghyun was just on the other side of the bedroom door. Even as he glances back down at the magazines Jonghyun jiggles the doorknob and pushes it open. Taemin doesn’t even really try to hide what he was looking at. It’s not _his_ secret. “Did you find it?” Jonghyun asks as he steps into the room. He looks at Taemin at the bed, smiles, notices magazines in his lap, tilts his head curiously. “What’re you looking at?” he asks. Taemin cocks a brow, then holds the top one up.

Jonghyun looks at it for a long moment before his cheeks start to color pink.

“Oh,” he says, and his eyes flick down to the whole stack of magazines in Taemin’s lap. “Oh,” he says again, and immediately turns and walks out of the room, lifting his hands to cover his face. A wide smile spreads over Taemin’s lips as he catches the bright blush that’s made its way all the way to the back of Jonghyun’s neck.

 

2  
When Jonghyun comes out of the bathroom, fresh and minty and all washed up for the day, he finds Taemin still sitting up in bed, sleepy and groggy and rubbing his palms into his eyes. He smiles fondly. Cute bub. Taemin finishes rubbing his face and looks up as he enters. His lips twitch up into a little smile and he waves softly.

“Happy birthday,” he says. Jonghyun smiles even wider. Bless.

“Thanks,” he says, sliding onto the bed and draping himself over it so his head is in Taemin’s lap. “Wanna take me to breakfast?” he asks, reaching up to poke Taemin’s soft little cheek. Taemin nips at his finger, pets his hair, pats his chest.

“Sure,” he says, “but, first. I got you some stuff.”

“Ooh,” Jonghyun says as Taemin leans over the side of the bed and rustles in his bag on the floor. He loves stuff. He sits up straight as Taemin pulls out a little box and holds it in his lap.

“Uh,” he says, and pulls the top off. “I didn’t wrap any of it, but.” He shrugs and hands Jonghyun a card first. It’s cute; it has pictures of puppies in birthday hats and it says “28? Celebrate!” in bubbly letters. Inside Taemin’s drawn him a heart with little blushies on it that Jonghyun chuckles at. That’s sweet.

“And,” Taemin says, pulling stuff out of the box. “I got you some fancy guitar polish,” he says, handing the bottle over. “And, a custom scented candle that smells like leather and asphalt… and… a notebook to write music notes in… and--oh. This,” he says, leaning down to rustle in his bag again. He pulls out a red and blue plaid button up and holds it up, peeping at Jonghyun from over the collar. “Because I thought you would look cute in it, with that purple hat you have,” he says.

“Ooh,” Jonghyun says again. He knows just the hat Taemin is talking about and he agrees. He puts all of his other new stuff down and reaches for the jacket, pulling it on over his blue tshirt. “Thanks, Tae,” he says, fixing it up over his shoulders. “For everything, heck.” This is all so nice. He pops the lid off of his candle and sniffs, then sniffs more when it smells exactly like Taemin does when he first shows up with the gang after being away for two months. Holy shit. This is a very important candle that he will cherish forever.

Taemin hands him the box as well; Jonghyun giggles as he takes it and gently puts everything else back inside. He loves them and he loves Taemin. They’re such thoughtful little gifts, even the jacket, and--

“Oh!” he says suddenly. The jacket reminded him of something. Taemin hums in question and Jonghyun wiggles to the edge of the bed to get off. “I have something for you too, hold on,” he says, opening the top right drawer. He runs his fingers over all of his hats and bracelets and earrings until he finds the right jewelry box, then pops it opens and shuffles through his rings until he finds it. “Aha,” he mumbles, and takes it out.

It’s a simple thing; a black band with silverish lines on each side. He takes it back with him to the bed and sits pleasantly in front of his babe, who’s looking at his closed hand with curiosity. Jonghyun smiles and holds it up for him to see.

“I’ve been meaning to give this to you for, like, months,” he says. He’d just been forgetting, but Taemin giving him the shirt made him remember. “I think rings would suit you.” He hands it over; Taemin takes it and looks at it in the palm of his hand.

“Oh,” he says. Jonghyun nods, looking around for his present box again. He takes the top and puts it on. He’ll put everything away later. “It’s not, like, a relationship ring, or anything,” he adds as he leans over to put the box on top of his bedside table drawer. “Just, like. An accessory. You don’t have to put it on your ring--”

He stops when he turns around; stops and just looks at Taemin, right hand halfway through sliding the ring down his left ring finger, bottom lip between his teeth, vibrantly pink in the cheeks. Taemin looks back at him, eyes wide and cheeks getting darker and darker by the second. Jonghyun feels the most amused and fluttery feeling inside of him and pulling his lips up into a wide grin.

“Tae,” he says. That’s so fucking sweet and adorable. Taemin hisses a soft curse, puts his face into his hands (the black of the ring stark against his flushed skin), and stands up without looking at Jonghyun again.

“Come on, kid, let’s go get you some breakfast,” he says loudly. He grabs one of Jonghyun’s jackets at random from his coat rack to pull over his sleep shirt as he all but speeds out of the bedroom. Jonghyun follows considerably slower, making sure to grab his purple hat from his drawer on the way out.

 

3  
 **From: Taemin  
Tuesday 4:35pm**  
jonghyun please explain the nut meme to me

**To: Taemin  
Tuesday 4:35pm**  
??????? What

**From: Taemin  
Tuesday 4:50pm**  
idk i say nut sometimes like “wow you really nutted that frisbee when you threw it” and everyone tells me to stop but they say it in the same tone they use when they tell someone else to stop talking about memes but the only memes i know are the booty one and the tag yourself one so im really confused

**To: Taemin  
Tuesday 4:51pm**  
Oh,,,, my god

**To: Taemin  
Tuesday 4:51pm**  
It’s not really a meme but it’s slang

**To: Taemin:  
Tuesday 4:52pm**  
Nut means to jizz but usually in a jokey or exaggerated way

**From: Taemin  
Tuesday 5:20pm**  
?

**To: Taemin  
Tuesday 5:21pm**  
Sometimes it’s just a synonym for jizz or ejaculate or whatever but usually it’s to say you’re feeling a lot of good emotions about something

**To: Taemin  
Tuesday 5:21pm**  
Like if you see something really rad or something that you’re excited about you say that you’re gonna nut

**To: Taemin  
Tuesday 5:21pm**  
You’re not actually going to jizz about it but it’s funny because the idea of someone jizzing over a coupon for free pizza or a good song is funny

**From: Taemin  
Tuesday 7:30pm**  
oh

**To: Taemin  
Tuesday 7:31pm**  
Speaking of good songs I have a few more for you to listen to the next time you’re here uwu

**From: Taemin  
Tuesday 8:15pm**  
nut

**From: Jinki  
Wednesday 11:30am**  
You explained what Nut means to him didn’t you :/

 

4  
Taemin rests his chin in his hand as he slowly sips the rest of the milk from his cereal bowl, blinking sleepily at the cute strawberry decor of the kitchen tablecloth. The little strawberries smile back at him, greeting him good morning and making him feel sunny on the inside. He knew picking this out for Jonghyun’s house would be a good idea.

At the sink, Jonghyun hums to himself as he washes the dishes of whatever breakfast he’d made and finished before Taemin woke up and slouched down the hallway. Taemin lifts his eyes to smile fondly at him instead, little and cute and peppy with his fuzzy pajama pants and dark tank top. His arm muscles look extra nice today. Not too buff and inflated by the crushing pressures of the patriarchy like they used to be for a few years, but not at that too small point that makes him pouty about too many skipped days. They’re in the middle. Just right.

A line of black just above Jonghyun’s left elbow makes Taemin pause in his breakfast and squint. Scooting his chair closer, he reaches out to gently touch Jonghyun’s arm as he puts the last dish into the drying rack. Jonghyun hums, glancing at him over his shoulder.

“Yeah?” he asks. Taemin glances up at him, then back to his elbow. With Jonghyun still like this, he can see it clearly: black ink that spells out “inspiration” with a thin red line through it.

“You got a tattoo,” he says, rubbing his thumb over it gently. When the frickie did that happen. It definitely wasn’t there the last time Taemin left three months ago, but he’s been back for almost a month already. He can’t believe that he didn’t notice until just now.

“Oh,” Jonghyun says. He smiles, turning his arm to look at it himself. “Yeah,” he says. “Four, actually.” He grabs a dish towel to dry his hands as Taemin’s brows rise into his hair. Four.

“When?” he asks curiously.

“Uh, like, a week or two after you left last time,” Jonghyun shrugs. “Here’re my other ones, see--” He holds out his right arm, pointing to three simple words on the inside of his bicep: “never the less.” Then to his left forearm, where “Story Op. 1 2” is written, and then taps the back of his neck. “The one back there is a secret,” he says, a mischievous smile playing on his lips. Taemin feels himself smiling too. That’s cute. They’re all cute. He’s heard Jonghyun say “nevertheless” a lot; whenever he’s pouty about having to do a chore but he does it anyway because he knows it’s right to do. And “inspiration” was the name he gave his first little set of concerts, and the Stories were his little album names.

“I like them,” he says, reaching up to run his fingers over Jonghyun’s bicep. They’re cute and fun and sentimental. Jonghyun beams back, booping their fingers together cutely before sitting down across from Taemin.

“I was thinking about getting a fifth, actually, I just remembered,” he says, “well, more than that, but--I was waiting to ask you about this specific one.”

“I--why?” Taemin asks. It’s Jonghyun’s body. He can do whatever the fuck he wants to it. Jonghyun smiles down at the table, bites his lip for a second, and looks back up.

“Because, um,” he says. “Inspiration and the stories were for me, and never the less is something I and my other friends say a lot together, and I wanted to get another one for… you.”

“Me?” Taemin asks blankly. A tattoo for him.

“Yeah,” Jonghyun says, nodding eagerly. “Nothing too big, but. It’s still going to be a permanent thing on my body that represents you, so I wanted to see if you were comfortable with that first before I went and did it.” He shrugs like it’s no big deal either way Taemin decides. Taemin hums shortly, not really agreeing or disagreeing. Just processing. A tattoo for him.

“I was thinking, like,” Jonghyun continues. “Hereish, on the inside of my arm.” He flips his left elbow over and draws a little circle with his finger just above the crook of it. “A little black leaf with light green veins. Because, you know, you like plants, and you have all your defense mechanisms on the outside but for me usually now you’re really bright and relaxed, and. I just think it would be cute.”

A tattoo for Taemin.

All of this information suddenly registers to Taemin all at once, and the way his body decides to react to it is by blushing violently and sliding out of his chair to sit on the floor under the table.

Jonghyun wants to get a little symbol to represent Taemin inked into his skin. He wants it there to look at and to smile at and to think about and to show off to everyone. He wants it there permanently, always, so it never goes away, even after he’s gone and in the ground. Future alien archaeologists will dig up his grave and analyze it and find evidence of the tattoo that stood for how much he loved Taemin and--

“Fuck,” Taemin whispers into his knees.

“Tae?” Jonghyun says genty. Taemin doesn’t look up, but he can tell from the direction of Jonghyun’s voice that he’s sat himself on the floor under the table with him. He appreciates that. “Are you emotional because I, your boyfriend of, like, sixteen years, wants a little ink leaf to remember you by?”

“Yeah,” Taemin squeaks. That is exactly it. What the fuck. Jonghyun laughs softly and Taemin hears him shuffling more forward until little hands appear on his knees. Jonghyun paps his knees gently, rests his chin on one.

“So is that a yes?” he asks.

Taemin nods with the tiniest noise of confirmation and feels his whole body getting warmer as he does so.

 

5  
Jonghyun taps his fingers on the underside of the desk as the front door opens and a few bikers come in. He’s twenty-five and far too used to them all to still be getting excited like this, but he can’t help what he can’t help. Hearing all of their bikes rumbling from down the road still makes him shiver sometimes.

It’s around half the group today that parks in the front lot and it’s three that come inside. One of those three is Taemin and Jonghyun fights himself to smile at Jinki when he comes to the front counter instead. He is a professional adult working his very important professional job and he can’t make eyes at his boyfriend just because he’s shown up after two months of being away.

“Hi Jinki,” he says, shaking his excited hands out one last time under the desk before he lifts them to rest on top of it instead. “Welcome back,” he says. He glances at Kyuhyun on Jinki’s left with a little smile to greet him too, and then glances considerably longer at Taemin on Jinki’s right with a considerably larger smile. Taemin holds his gaze, eyes dark and quiet and warm, before Jonghyun makes himself look back to the leader of the gang.

“Thanks,” Jinki hums. He leans one arm on Jonghyun’s counter in a way that looks casually comfortable but Jonghyun knows is actually sleepy. They must have gotten up early this morning. “Three rooms, this time,” Jinki says, reaching in his jacket pocket for his wallet. “And six bikes.” He jerks his head backwards to indicate the little jumble of motorcycles in the parking lot waiting for their garage passes. Jonghyun notes Taemin glancing back out there as well as he nods.

“Mmhmm,” he hums. He scoots a step over to the computer and starts tapping in the normal information for Jinki’s name. “Do you have any preferences for the rooms?” he asks. They’re mostly empty today. Jinki shrugs, shaking his head, but Kyuhyun nods and leans up on the counter next to him.

“Yeah, can I get one in the back by the trees?” he asks. “I’m tired of Changmin whining about the sun,” he grumbles. Jonghyun snorts.

“Sure,” he says, tabbing over to one of the back corner rooms. In the corner of his eye, he catches a sleepy biker babe kind of shuffling to the side. He glances at Taemin as he’s reaching under the counter to grab the three sets of keys. He has his forearm casually on the counter as he slides down it, towards the wall, towards the gap between the two. When Jonghyun hands the keys over and starts entering in the parking information, Taemin slowly steps behind the counter. He starts making his way back to Jonghyun, scooping a business card from a little stack in a blatantly obvious attempt to look like he’s not being sneaky.

Jonghyun grins to himself as he pulls six little placards from a drawer.

“Here you go,” he says, giving Jinki the keys and five of the passes. He sets the last one on the desk, patting it pleasantly as Taemin super casually slides right behind him and slips his arms around his waist. He sees Kyuhyun roll his eyes and Jinki smirk knowingly at Taemin over his shoulder and tries not to smile too wide. He’s really grown to love these public displays of affection Taemin gives him sometimes. He thinks it’s nice that they’re both more comfortable enough for shit like this.

“Thank you,” Jinki says pleasantly, taking both the keys and cards in one hand. With his other he hands Jonghyun his credit card and then props his chin in his hand as he waits. Jonghyun rests his right hand on top of Taemin’s on his stomach and uses his left to swipe Jinki’s card and take care of the money. He’s sure that no one will mind the extra few seconds it takes him to do things one-handed. And if anyone does, he’s sure that Taemin won’t mind taking a second from how he’s nuzzled into the back of Jonghyun’s neck to frown at them about it.

He finishes logging everything into the computer and smiles the customer service smile he’s been perfecting back at Jinki, handing his card back easily.

“Okay, thanks,” he says. “Enjoy your stay.”

“Mmhmm,” Jinki smiles. He glances at Taemin as he slots his wallet back into his pocket. “Dinner at that place you like in town later,” he says.

“Mmhmm,” Taemin hums back. Jonghyun feels him give a little nod behind him. He waves the other two off, watching them walk back outside to roll their bikes into the garage. Jonghyun assumes that since Taemin is here clinging to his back that he parked in an outside spot and is going to move his bike later. When the door closes behind Jinki, Jonghyun starts to turn in Taemin arms. Taemin’s hands on his waist guide him the rest of the way until he’s looking up at his babe, sleepy and quiet.

“Hi,” he says. He slides his hands up Taemin’s stomach to pap against his jacket. Taemin slides one hand up to Jonghyun’s chin, tiling his face up gently. His thumb rubs lightly over his lower lip, dark eyes intent on his mouth, before he leans down and kisses him.

Jonghyun melts into it easily, amused but not surprised at Taemin’s bluntness. He isn’t kissing hard, just deep, each breath a slow movement of his lips against Jonghyun’s. He holds Jonghyun’s face close with a hand on the side of his neck and his body close with a hand on his hip. Jonghyun likes it. A quiet voice at the back of his head nags about being seen like this by anyone but he knows that they have at least another minute before all of the bikers come inside. He can indulge himself in his boyfriend for a little bit if he wants to. And he can let Taemin indulge in him as the very first thing he does here in two months.

“Hi,” Taemin breathes when he finally pulls back. He rubs his thumb over Jonghyun’s cheek as Jonghyun’s eyes flutter open. Jonghyun licks his lips as he meets Taemin’s eyes. Taemin watches the movement, thumb sliding down to tap the corner of his mouth. “I had a dream about your lips this morning,” he says quietly. “I couldn’t stop thinking about them.”

“Oh,” Jonghyun says, and that’s all it takes. Just that one, simple, honest statement that has heat creeping up into his whole face. He hides his face in his hands, pressing close to lean into Taemin’s shoulder. Taemin dreamt about him. What the fuck. That’s so. Beautiful and wonderful. He’s gonna fucking implode.

“I made you blush,” Taemin says. His voice is a guilty little mumble as he wraps his arm fully around Jonghyun’s waist. “Sorry,” he says.

“Nnnn,” Jonghyun says. He shakes his head, leaning back and lowering his hands just enough so he can peep up at Taemin. “It’s not an anxiety blush,” he says. The furthest thing from it for once, honestly. “It’s a flattered blush. Don’t feel bad.” He knows Taemin has been really trying to be gentle with his anxiety lately now that he’s getting a better hold on it and he doesn’t want him to think that he’s fucked up. Taemin looks down at him, relief in the way his fingers curl into the hair at the nape of Jonghyun’s neck.

“So, like, a good blush?” he asks. Jonghyun smiles and nods, lowering his hands to give Taemin a quick little peck.

“Yeah,” he says. “It’s good.” Taemin hums shortly, kissing him again. He pulls back and rubs his knuckles lightly over the pink of Jonghyun’s cheeks.

“Good,” he says, and there’s a fond warmth in his voice that makes Jonghyun warm all over again. “You’re really cute when you blush,” he says.

“Oh my fucking god,” Jonghyun says. He buries his face in Taemin’s shoulder again, pink all the way down to his soul as his heart swells.


	11. five times things were smol nd cute

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s his first time back since he told Jonghyun that he loves him and he wants to remind him with, like, kisses and nuzzles and shit.

1  
Taemin yawns as he struggles to pull a long sleeve shirt over his head. Running his fingers through his hair when he’s done, he shuffles out of his room and closes the door behind him. With a quick glance around the hallway, he notices someone backing out of a room near the staircase.

No, not a someone; a Jonghyun, and he’s not backing out, he’s rummaging in the room with his back to the hallway. Hmm. Must be a storage closet or something. Taemin heads over to him, happy that the first human he’s going to interact with today is going to be his boyfriend. It’s the group’s first time back to the motel since Taemin’s birthday. He’s a brand new adult and he’s been hoping for some extra kissies in appreciation for it.

He comes up behind Jonghyun and puts his hands gently on his waist, opening his mouth to say his usual quiet, “Hey.” Before he can get the word out, a lot of different things happen.

Jonghyun gasps loudly, jumps like a mile, turns halfway around, bumps his shoulder on the doorframe, turns the rest of the way around, hisses _“Jesus fucking christ,”_  stumbles a lot of steps back, tumbles to his butt on the floor, curls his knees up, and laughs.

It’s a shaky breath of a laugh first, wide eyes blinking up at Taemin in relief, but as the seconds tick by, it turns louder, harder, heavier, until he’s leaning against a dusty shelf with his hands over his face and laughing so loud Taemin thinks he might wake up anyone that managed to sleep in even later than he did.

Taemin blinks down at him, very confused at that sequence of events.

“Oh,” he says, “um,” he says, “sorry,” he says. He fumbles to sit down on the carpet in front of Jonghyun awkwardly. “I wanted to say hi.” He didn’t mean for… this. To happen. Jonghyun keeps laughing, eyes all scrunched up, mouth wide, whole body curled up in a little ball. Taemin’s never seen him like this. It’s really fucking adorable, even if he doesn’t understand it at all.

With one hand, Jonghyun reaches out until he grabs Taemin’s wrist. He half crawls, half tugs Taemin forward, still giggling, until he clambers himself into Taemin’s lap and clings around his neck, face buried in Taemin’s shoulder. He shakes with laughter and now Taemin shakes too, arms loose around his waist. He doesn’t know what he’s supposed to say, and even if he did, Jonghyun is laughing too much to hear him.

Taemin just sits with him, with his giggly, bubbly, bright boyfriend, and rests his chin on Jonghyun’s shoulder. His eyes slide shut and he breathes slowly, such a contrast to Jonghyun’s quick irregular lungfuls of air. As far as sudden unexpected things that make no sense go, Taemin thinks this might be the first one that he actually likes.

Eventually, Jonghyun’s laughter dies down to just quiet little giggles and breaths against Taemin’s sweater. Eventually, he nuzzles Taemin and then pulls back, lifts one hand to Taemin’s cheek, and leans in for a kiss, confident and sure of himself without a shred of his usual anxiety. It’s warm and firm and more of a smile than anything else. Taemin blinks sleepily back at him when he gently breaks it off.

“Hi,” Jonghyun says, and kisses him again.

 

2  
Taemin is conflicted when he follows Jinki into the lobby of the motel and sees Jonghyun behind the front desk. He’s happy, because Jonghyun is wonderful and he’s been wanting to see him all week, but he’s also dejected because if Jonghyun is working then he can’t snuggle right now. It’s his first time back since he told Jonghyun that he loves him and he wants to remind him with, like, kisses and nuzzles and shit. He also wants to do it far away from people that will watch and make him blush, because lately he can’t even fucking think about Jonghyun without heating up on the inside. He had to sit on his bike with his helmet on for a minute when they all first rolled up so he could control his fucking face.

For now, he settles for creeping his hand over the counter to sit next to Jonghyun’s right as he taps in everyone’s information with his left. There. That is a simple and inconspicuous display of affection that will let Jonghyun know that he’s ready to snuggle whenever.

Jonghyun glances at his hand, takes it gently, rubs his thumb over his knuckles, and throws him a little smile before he ducks down to pull out keys and passes from under the desk. Just those tiny, obvious actions send heat creeping up into Taemin’s face. He looks away before Jonghyun straightens up again, hiding his blush behind his hand.  He’s so fucking cute. Jinki cocks a brow at him and Amber nudges his side and Taemin huffs, grabbing a parking pass at random from the desk and shuffling back to join the others in the parking lot before his heartbeat goes through the roof. Fuck. He doesn’t need this. Being in love and everyone knowing it is garbage. He hates having emotions and shit. No one even pretends to believe him when he’s pretending to be an asshole anymore.

Outside, he grumbles onto his bike, gripping the handles and closing his eyes. He breathes slow, deep breaths while everyone else goes into the garage ahead of him. By the time he starts his bike and putts it in himself, he’s evened his body out and kind of stopped caring. Jonghyun is sweet. And good. And adorable. And no one is going to remember that he had emotions next week anyway. It’s fine.

He does wish he could snuggle Jonghyun now though. He misses his warmth, his smell, his heartbeat.

And then, just like that, he’s having emotions again. God. This is so fucked up. He rubs his hands over his face before he turns his bike off and shuffles back to the front door with his bag over his shoulder. He’s gonna blush even more when he sees Jonghyun behind the counter. He knows it. All he wants to do is just scuttle through the lobby and fumble with the key to Jonghyun’s floor for like a minute like he always does and then lie on his couch and relax. He hopes Jonghyun doesn’t decide to take a break to see Taemin early or anything like that like he usually does.

Well, he does, because that would be really gay and wonderful, but also, he doesn’t, because he doesn’t think he can get any redder without just straight up evaporating.

As he passes the front desk in the lobby, Jonghyun gives him a shy little wave with a bitten smile. Taemin almost trips over his own two feet trying to get to the door before anyone else notices his red cheeks.

 

3  
“Taemin… Taemin… Taemie….” A soft voice near his ear and a gentle hand shaking his shoulder brings Taemin out of a dream that he barely tries to remember. He scrunches his eyes, taking a deep breath and turning to smush his face into his pillow. It’s too early. He knows it is. He doesn’t even have to see the time to know that he would hate it. Jonghyun keeps jiggling his shoulder and there’s a grin in his voice when he speaks again.

“Taemie baby…. Sleepy Taemie baby boo–”

“What?” Taemin grumbles. He is not a baby. He’s a grown adult that just isn’t used to waking up at like five in the morning or whatever the fuck time it is that Jonghyun wakes up to get ready for work. Jonghyun laughs softly and pokes at where his right cheek isn’t pressed into the pillow. Taemin grumbles more and turns his face so it is, and then Jonghyun gently pets his hair.

“Can I look through your bag to steal one of your sweaters?” Jonghyun asks him. “I’m feeling really gay today.”

“Mmgh,” Taemin mumbles. He hugs his pillow close to himself and nods. That’s really fucking cute. Almost cute enough to justify being woken up early for. “Sure,” he says. Maybe later when he wakes up on his own and sees Jonghyun all snug and warm in his sweater he’ll be less grumpy about it. Jonghyun presses a kissie to his head with the quietest little “mwah” before Taemin feels him leave the bedside.

He hears him rummaging around in his bag a moment later as he’s counting his breaths to go back to sleep. Four seconds in, eight seconds out. Four seconds in, eight seconds out. Already he feels his mind slipping into nice, warm, peaceful blankness. It’s nice and cozy here under the blankies. His breath against the pillow warms him even further, making him feel all toasty and melty. Four seconds in, eight sec–

“Taemin,” Jonghyun pouts. Taemin scrunches up his face again.

“What,” he mumbles.

“Where’s all of your sweaters?” Jonghyun asks. “All you have is the ugly blue and white one.” A dip in the mattress tells Taemin that Jonghyun has sat down next to him and a soft pap on the cheek tells him that Jonghyun is wiggling the sweater sleeve by his face. He wiggles, curling up into a ball under the covers. Jonghyun pushes gently on his shoulder so he turns his face away from the pillow so he can speak clearly, but covers his eyes with his arm.

“Luna’s I guess?” he says. Where he keeps all of the clothes that he doesn’t take with him in his bag.

“What?” Jonghyun says. “Why?”

“Hot outside,” Taemin says. He’s not gonna carry all of his sweaters with him all the time if he’s not gonna wear them. “Also it’s not ugly,” he mumbles defensively. That sweater is a stripy fuzzy friend.

“It is,” Jonghyun tells him, and then, while he’s still frowning, “and I meant, why not Jinki’s?”

“God, no,” Taemin says. “I don’t wanna like. Talk to his rich stuffy family at all, are you kidding?”  _Jinki_  never even wants to see his family, so much that he considers renting his own storage unit every time he has to go pick something up from their house. Taemin definitely isn’t going to meet them just so he can dump some clothes there twice a year. Jonghyun doesn’t reply to that other than a quiet pout, a little whiny noise.

“No egg cloud sweater?” he asks. “No knitted black v-neck, no Homeboy, no Clarity, no skull smiley face, no ‘A lie can’t be covered with another lie?’”

Taemin hesitates, listening to Jonghyun list off all of these sweaters that he has. He knows exactly which ones Jonghyun is talking about. Finally he opens his eyes, blinking groggily up at his boyfriend as Jonghyun pouts down at him.

“Do you have, like, my whole wardrobe memorized?” he asks. Jonghyun looks down at him, then looks away, scratching the side of his head.

“I mean,” he says. “I guess?” He fiddles with the striped sweater in his lap as Taemin watches him. Then Taemin shrugs, closes his eyes, nuzzles back into his pillow. He’ll call Jonghyun cute and make him blush later.

“Just take my leather jacket,” he mumbles.

“Ooh,” Jonghyun says, a sharp hiss of excitement, and immediately gets up to grab it.

 

4  
The sun is pleasantly warm through spotty patches of clouds overhead as Jonghyun lies on his back in the grass. It’s not even hot on his face or arm. He would almost appreciate its existence for once if he didn’t just dislike it on principle.

What he does appreciate is Taemin next to him, Taemin dozing off with his head on Jonghyun’s right bicep and his hands linked lazily on top of his stomach. Jonghyun can’t see much of his face from this angle, but he knows his cheeks are all soft and squishy and that’s what’s important. Closing his eyes against a ray of sun glaring at him from behind a cloud, Jonghyun reaches lazily for Taemin’s hands with his free one.

He finds Taemin’s left and gently picks it up, rubs his thumb over the back of it and holds it in his. This is nice. He’s been busier lately, training Taeyeon and doing his regular shifts and working on his music, and it’s nice to be able to lie outside in the grass and relax with his babe.

As he explores Taemin’s hand with his own, he comes upon a multitude of rings on his fingers. He stops at each one, feeling each of them out, remembering how they looked when Taemin first showed up with all of them. Two small grey rings sit around his pinky, one studded with fake diamonds. On his pointer finger is a thick silvery metal ring. His middle finger has three black rings with a little chain that connects them all to each other. Another black ring with a white line through it is around his thumb.

And on his ring finger, alone, is a simple black band with silver lines on each side.

Jonghyun smiles to himself as he plays with that one, twisting it gently back and forth. That’s the one that he gave Taemin. And when he gave Taemin that ring is when Taemin went out and bought all of his other rings.

Taemin’s hand moves in his, twists away from him for just a second so he can lace their fingers together instead. Jonghyun grins. For someone that’s supposed to be sleeping that wasn’t smooth. He lifts Taemin’s hand up to his mouth and kisses his ring finger gently–for half a second before Taemin inhales sharply and huffs “ _God, fuck,”_  and whips his hand away. Rolling over to his stomach next to him, Taemin nuzzles aggressively into his shoulder and squishes his hand between their bodies.

Jonghyun feels Taemin rubbing his fingers against each other for the next ten minutes.

 

5  
There are a lot of people in here.

Jonghyun knew there would be; he knew that he called his friends and hired some people and told the bikers they were free to help him move in if they wanted to. He gladly accepted all of the help he could get, and here it all is, from the group of movers assembling his couch in front of the TV shelf to Kyuhyun and Changmin slowly carrying the TV in together while Kibum guides them in to everyone else helping unload the moving truck one thing at a time.

Taemin hovers awkwardly by the kitchen doorway, watching them all, and Jonghyun leans against the living room wall, watching him, amused and endeared. He’s cute. Flustered, overwhelmed, all clammed up around so many people, and cute.

Jonghyun slips outside after the TV gets in and grabs the box of all of his little knick knacks from the van. Carrying it back inside, he pulls a stepping stool up to the empty shelf by the hallway and sits himself down in front of it.

As he’s gently placing his little collection of model motorcycles on the middle shelf, arranging them up all neat and orderly, he catches Taemin shuffling to him out of the corner of his eye. Soon, Taemin slips his arms around Jonghyun’s waist and rests his chin on his head.

“Hey,” he mumbles, voice quiet and disinterested, sigh slow and bored. Jonghyun feels his heart thudding in that way it does when he’s closing himself up but hasn’t quite finished yet and smiles fondly.

“Hi,” he says back. “You okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Taemin mumbles. Jonghyun snorts. Alright then. Taemin’s fingers grip his shirt loosely. Jonghyun continues setting up his little motorcycles, all the ones he’s made over the years, from simple lego sets to complicated functional replicas. After another few minutes, Taemin takes in a deep, slow breath.

“Hmm,” he hums, and pulls away from Jonghyun. Jonghyun pats his tummy gently as he walks down the hall towards the bedroom. He can go be alone for a while if he wants to.

Or, for a minute, Jonghyun guesses, because soon Taemin comes right back. Jonghyun glances at him over his shoulder as he presses up against his back again. Taemin isn’t looking at him because Taemin is looking at what’s in his hand, which is a little baggie full of little motorcycles.

“Oh,” Jonghyun says, delighted, as Taemin fumbles the bag open and shakes them all out onto the shelf. They’re cheap little toys, all plastic and simple paint jobs. They’re adorable and Jonghyun never knew that Taemin had them. With one hand, Taemin picks each one up and arranges them neatly next to all of Jonghyun’s. His other hand sneaks around Jonghyun’s waist again. When he’s done, he trails his fingers along the shelf in front of them before slipping his other hand back around Jonghyun’s waist to complete the circle.

“They’re all girlfriends,” he mumbles, nodding lazily to the collection of motorcycles. He nuzzles against Jonghyun’s shoulder, lips pressing to his skin where his shirt collar dips wide. Jonghyun smiles, reaching up to gently nudge two closer together. They sure are.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> #soft... cute... sweet.... gay... im alive   
> #taem showing up with like fifty rings: what no this isnt new ive always done this dont @ me   
> #he couldnt keep Looking at the One Ring From Jonghyun without turning into a tomato   
> #he still does it but now he does it less   
> #also jong snatches up taems leather jacket v v quickly nd just spends all day feeling : )))))))))) nd Gay   
> #also also giggly laughy smiley jonghyun is Important   
> #he remembers to tell taem happy birthday eventually


	12. five times they were old and lived happily ever after

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Grandpa Jinki,” Joy says, and Jinki scrunches his face. “Were we gonna do something before they get back from holiday shopping, or…?”
> 
> “I told you to stop calling me that,” Jinki grumbles instead of answering her question.

1  
_“Stay,_  oh girl, deja boo… hmm hmm hmm hmm hmm hmm….”

Jonghyun hums quietly as he walks passed Taemin on the couch, fluffing his hand through the soft hair at the back of his head. A few of his hairs are starting to grow in white, something that Taemin thinks is incredibly adorable on Jonghyun even though he himself pouts every time he sees a new one on his own head in the mirror between dye jobs.

Everything else about Jonghyun is adorable too, from the two little moles on his neck to the crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes to the wrist brace on his left hand to the faded tattoos that bless his skin to the faint, faint, faint little scars on his ears where he’s let all but two of his piercing holes close up. Taemin watches him sing his little “la la la”s to himself as he disappears into the kitchen. His heart flutters in his chest, something that he’s still not used to after seventeen years of being in love. Maybe in another couple of years when he’s forty he’ll get over it.

For now, he slips his hand into his hoodie pocket and rubs his thumb over the little ring inside for the thousandth time. He really needs to stop procrastinating on this before he loses it or something. He’s been back with Jonghyun for a month now and he still hasn’t done it. It’s just. So hard to find a time that feels right. He takes the ring out to frown at it, rubbing his thumb over the dark black cobalt in the center, the shiny chrome cobalt bands on each side.

It’s just. A wedding ring. That’s it. All he has to do it give it to Jonghyun and ask. It’s not like Jonghyun’s going to say no; Jonghyun loves him and the only reason Jonghyun has never asked to marry him is because neither of them really care about the concept of marriage.

But. Taemin still. Wants to. He’s been feeling really really gay lately and he wants a little piece of paper that binds them together legally. And tax benefits and shit.

He sighs loudly, flopping his head dramatically to the side of his pillow. He needs to just. Do it. Just get up and do it. Just. Just do the thing. Make the thing be done. Just–

“Ooh, nice ring.” Taemin starts when Jonghyun speaks just above him; Jonghyun’s hands appear on the arm of the couch as he smiles down at the ring in Taemin’s hands. “Did you just get that in the mail or something?” he asks curiously. Taemin blinks up at him. Frick.

“Uh,” he says, and looks back at it. He can’t lie. He guesses now is as good of a time as any. “Actually, um,” he says, and sits up so he look at Jonghyun face-to-face. “I got it for you,” he says quietly, holding it out. Jonghyun gasps softly, beautiful brown eyes going all wide and flattered, and takes the ring with gentle hands.

“Wow, really?” he asks, holding it up to inspect the heavy metal. “It’s so nice, Taemin, thanks,” he beams. He rubs his thumb over one of the lines between the black and the chrome, then bites a fond little chuckle. “It looks like the one I got you twelve years ago,” he says. Taemin glances down at his hands, at the ring he’s talking about, the simple black band with silver outlines that still sits on his left ring finger amidst all of his other rings.

“Yeah,” he says. That was on purpose, yeah.

“Now we match,” Jonghyun says happily. Taemin swallows thickly and looks back up to see Jonghyun’s left finger just feeling up the inside of the ring, like he’s testing how it feels before he slips it all the way on. Heck. He lifts a hand to take Jonghyun’s right, stopping him from doing that just yet.

“Actually, um,” he says, and swallows again. “It’s, um,” he says. He rubs his thumb over the back of Jonghyun’s hand. “Like,” he says. “You know, like. It’s not. Just an accessory, like. It’s. It’s for.” God, he swears he had this planned out better in his head. “It’s like.”

“Oh my god,” Jonghyun whispers. He stares at the ring, eyes wide, stares at Taemin, eyes wider. “Oh my god,” he whispers again. His face breaks into the biggest, widest, giddiest smile; Taemin’s face burns with a sudden violent blush. “Oh my god, are you really proposing to me right now like this?” Jonghyun squeaks. Taemin brings his feet up on the couch so he can bury his face in his knees. Fuck fuck fuck. His heart thuds hard in his chest and his skin tingles with all of the energy running through him. He hasn’t felt emotions this flustering in years, and now he doesn’t know if his body is trying to experience them or shut them down like he used to.

He nods his head into his knees anyway and melts onto his side when Jonghyun says “oh my god” again and reaches out to hug him. Jonghyun wiggles onto the couch with him, all giggles and warm hands, his small body curling around Taemin’s little ball of emotion. Taemin nuzzles closer even through the blood rushing in his ears because Jonghyun is good, Jonghyun is warm, Jonghyun is always what calms him down.

“I thought we didn’t like marriage?” Jonghyun asks, his voice a wide smile as he pets Taemin’s hair. Taemin wiggles, scrunching his face.

“I don’t,” he mumbles, which is true. “But. Tax benefits. Mostly. And. I lo–fuck. I–you–I lov–”

“You _love_ me,” Jonghyun singsongs quietly. Taemin groans loudly. He can feel his whole pulse in his face because he  _does_ , he loves Jonghyun so much, so much that he can’t even fucking say it out loud without flushing for the first time in, like, five years. He’s gonna be a mess for months after this. “You _looooove_ me,” Jonghyun says, louder this time, grins it into Taemin’s hair, and Taemin huffs loudly. God. Fuck. He doesn’t need this.

“Don’t rub it in,” he grumbles, and pushes gently at Jonghyun so he can sit up again, push his hair out of his face, glare grumpily at Jonghyun’s right elbow. “Just–do you wanna go down to the court and get a marriage license with me or what?” he asks. At that Jonghyun blinks at him, fingers still playing with the ring in his hand.

“You need a license to get married?” he asks. Taemin nods. Yeah.

“Yeah,” he says. He reaches over the arm of the couch to grab his water bottle so he can take slow sips and start feeling like a human being instead of a fireball again. “We gotta go get a license and–well, first we gotta find, like, our birth certificates and shit, but–then we gotta go fill out some paperwork and pay a fee and then they’ll send us our license, and then we have three months? Or ninety days, whatever, to actually get it done, and even though we’re not, you know, doing the whole ceremony or anything, we still gotta have a witness to go with us to the court for the judge–or, a priest, maybe, if you’re okay with that–to officiate it. I was thinking, um. Not. Not Jinki, not–just, maybe your sister, or–just someone on your side, you know? And then we’ll get the marriage certificate, and then we’ll be.” He takes a steady breath after all of that, swallows thickly, and lets it all out slowly so he can say the word. “Married,” he finishes.

He feels less hot and tingly all over, but his cheeks still do warm more when the word leaves his lips. Heck. They’re gonna be married. He stares at his water bottle and takes more sips, letting it cool his head. He forgot what big emotions felt like. He’s been so used to having regular emotions instead of none, he forgot they could get even intenser.

After a few more silent sips, he notices that he’s been able to take a large number of sips in silence. He blinks, looks to his side, and finds Jonghyun still just sitting there, looking at him, and smiling a soft little smile. Taemin scrunches his nose.

“What?” he asks.

“I always forget you special interest in the law,” Jonghyun tells him, “and then you say something like that, and then I remember that I really, really, really love you.” He cups Taemin’s face, leans forward, and kisses him softly.

Taemin feels his heart fluttering in his chest again and breaks the kiss to bury his face in Jonghyun’s neck. Frick. He wraps his arms around Jonghyun too, squeezing him tight as he takes deep breaths. Jonghyun laughs quietly and presses a kiss to Taemin’s hair. He slips his arms around Taemin’s waist as well; Taemin hears he velco of his wrist strap being pulled off and then feels Jonghyun’s left hand petting through his hair.

He also feels the slightest hard difference on Jonghyun’s hand that he knows is the ring, and he curses under his breath and nuzzles his face closer to Jonghyun’s skin.

 

2  
Jonghyun blows a big puff of air through his lips, imagines he can see it as it drifts up the the ceiling and dissipates into little wisps and twirls of wind. He rubs his hands absentmindedly over the carpet, feeling its kinda soft, kinda rough texture. He concentrates on his breathing and feels his lungs expanding and contracting under his ribs. He holds his left wrist in his right hand, twisting it back and forth until it cracks in the way Taemin always tells him to stop doing.

“I told you to stop doing that.”

And now Jonghyun smiles, grins, giggles to himself because of course Taemin caught him doing it. He always does, somehow.

“Really, you’re just making it worse,” Taemin grumbles, and then he’s sitting next to Jonghyun’s head on the floor and picking up his hand to rub his thumbs soothingly over his wrist. Jonghyun lazily turns his head to look at his favorite babe among babes, at his dark brown dyed hair, at the bags under his eyes, at the aqua framed bifocals that slip down his nose, at the pale scratch scars covering his left cheek that he got not in some wild biker gang pileup crash but from thinking there was one more step at the top of the stairs somewhere and falling on his face.

“You’re really pretty,” Jonghyun mumbles, taking his hand from Taemin’s to gently poke his cheek. Taemin hums, smiles, leans away, takes Jonghyun’s wrist again to continue his little massage.

“Thanks,” he says. Jonghyun taps his fingers on Taemin’s hand pleasantly. Then he sighs again, looking back up to the ceiling.

“I’m restless,” he pouts. “There’s nothing to do.” If there was something to do he would be doing that instead of lying on the floor and fucking his wrist up even more. Taemin hums quietly, lifts his wrist a little higher to kiss his hand.

“No songs?” he asks.

“No inspiration right now,” Jonghyun says.

“No writing?”

“The book’s at the editor’s, remember?”

“Mmm. No new media shit?”

“I watched it all already.”

“No work down at the motel?”

Jonghyun snorts at that.

“You don’t like when I go in for work,” he says, rolling half to his side so he can poke Taemin with his right hand. Taemin gently pushes his hand away.

“Yeah, because you always wind up overworking yourself again,” he mutters. Jonghyun pouts. He does not. He works a normal and average amount. Maybe his concept of what’s average is a little skewed, but, like, still. He’s fine. Either way, he wouldn’t be able to.

“They don’t need help right now,” he mumbles. He knows. He asked. He rolls to his stomach, nuzzling his head into Taemin’s thigh. “Can we go biking for a few weeks?” he asks. That’s what he really needs. A change of scenery, a lot of changes of scenery. He needs to keep moving, to keep travelling, to see people and places and things. They don’t even have to be new people and places and things. He just needs to get rid of all of this energy. Above him, Taemin scoffs softly.

“I quit the group to stay with you all the time and now all you wanna do is go riding with them,” he grumbles. His hand rubs Jonghyun’s shoulder lazily as Jonghyun snorts right back.

“I’ve only had my bike and free time for like six years,” he says. “I gotta catch up.” He’s only gone with the group for their whole rotation a handful of times, and only ridden around alone with Taemin for just a day or two at a time on the weekends. He has a lot of energy left in his tiny forty-two year old body. “Come on,” he pouts, wiggling up to nuzzle Taemin’s tummy. He knows Taemin isn’t opposed to the idea, just not entirely thrilled about having to put all of his guards back up around so many people.

“It doesn’t gotta be with them,” Jonghyun says. “We can go visit Jinki at the bar.” He slips his arms around Taemin’s waist and squeezes him gently. “I just wanna be somewhere else.” He needs this.

And Taemin knows he needs it, if the way he hums and bends and drapes himself over Jonghyun’s body means anything. Jonghyun wiggles, squished; Taemin stuffs a hand between them and fumbles in his hoodie pocket for his phone.

“I’ll text Jung and tell her to wait for us the next time they’re at the motel,” he says. Jonghyun smiles wide and presses a kissie to Taemin’s tummy through his hoodie. Then he gets up, wiggles to his feet and stretches his arms over his head. He’s gotta go pack.

 

3  
Jinki doesn’t know how, out of five people, out of him, Taemin, Jonghyun, Sodam, and Sodam’s husband whose name still eludes him, how out of all of those people,  _he_  is the one that got left alone with the kids for the afternoon. He can not comprehend how this happened, and as he crouches on the floor in front of them, hands on his knees as they sit and stare back at him, he can not comprehend why the fuck the others thought he would know what to do with them.

They’re like twelve, or thirteenish, he thinks; he was already dealing with Taemin when he was around that age. That was, fuck, some thirty years ago, though. And back then Taemin was already a caged up bottle of repressed emotions and too grown up for his age. Joy and Irene here are like. Actual children that have been able to be children. He doesn’t know how to deal with children. He ran off an joined a biker gang instead of starting a family like a normal rich prep.

“Grandpa Jinki,” Joy says, and Jinki scrunches his face. “Were we gonna do something before they get back from holiday shopping, or…?”

“I told you to stop calling me that,” Jinki grumbles instead of answering her question. She hides a grin; Irene doesn’t quite manage that.

“Biker uncle says it’s funny, though,” Joy says innocently.

“We stopped calling you Great Uncle Jinki,” Irene smiles. Jinki huffs. That was worse but  _Grandpa Jinki_ still isn’t good.

“You’re both little shits,” he says, and then, “fuck, no, I meant– _fuck_ –no, shit, no,  _frick_ , god–”

“You can say the fuck word, we don’t care,” Irene tells him. Jinki huffs.

“ _I_  can,” he says, “but I’m pretty sure that  _you’re_  not supposed to.”

“Can you confirm that?” Joy asks, leaning forward and narrowing her eyes at him at him suspiciously. Jinki opens his mouth, then closes it and squints back. He can not. But he should trust himself in his knowledge of rules for small humans. If they were Taemin’s kids, maybe, he would believe them, but they’re not. They’re Taemin’s husband’s sister’s kids, and he’s pretty sure Sodam wouldn’t let them say the fuck word so young. Maybe Jonghyun and Taemin let them swear when they visit, though. Maybe that’s why they’re the cool uncles. Or maybe they don’t, because they know how to enforce rules or whatever.

Jinki props his chin up in his hand as he surveys these two little gremlins. He doesn’t have the energy for this.

“You know what?” he says. “I really don’t give a fuck.” If the other two aren’t the cool uncles, he can be instead. Or, the cool grandpa. Or, no. Fuck. God. Just. “Wanna go make cookies for Santa?” he asks. He knows how to make cookies and he knows that kids like cookies and that should occupy a significant amount of time. Immediately both of the kids perk up, smiles wide and bright.

“Okay,” they say, and tug at his hands as they stand up. Jinki gets up with them, sighing in a long suffering way as he follows them to the kitchen. Taemin better not get mad at him for using his food for this.

“You know Santa doesn’t exist, right?” Irene asks him, pushing their hair out of their face to raise their brows at him. Jinki rolls his eyes. Taemin’s the only one out of all of them that actually celebrates Christmas, right.

“I know,” he says.

Two and a half hours later, the others come back to him and the kids sitting at the kitchen table, decorating sugar cookies and bickering over whether “dick” or “cock” is a better word for casual conversation. Jinki feels like he’s lucky that it was Jonghyun that came in first, because if all he did was shoot Jinki a stern, scandalized glare, he really doesn’t want to imagine what his sister would have done.

 

4  
Jonghyun hums to himself as he rubs a sponge in gentle circles over the mint green stripes of Taemin’s motorcycle, a little song he wrote half a lifetime ago about love being nice. He heard it over the radio in the local bookstore he went to the other day and had to bite his lip to keep his grin from getting too big.

Soap suds ooze from the sponge and roll down the metal and parts of the bike, drip and splatter on the grey floor of the garage. He washes the gas tank, the fenders, the dash, all of the large areas first, careful to rinse his sponge whenever it picks up any stray dirt or grime.

He’s scooting forward in his little rolly chair with a smaller sponge to wash the handlebars and other little details when a tall shadow blocks some of the sunlight pouring in from the open door of the garage. Jonghyun looks up; Taemin is there, glancing around the wide space before his eyes land on him and the bike.

“Oh,” Taemin says, and smiles in relief as he walks forward. “There you are.”

“Mmhmm,” Jonghyun hums, letting Taemin wrap his arms around his neck when he reaches him. “Hi.”

“Hi Jongie,” Taemin murmurs, and drops a kiss onto his hair. “That’s my bike,” he says. Jonghyun nods and smiles up at him a little apologetically.

“Yeah, I just. Wanted to clean something. You know how I am.” Maybe it’s just a part of him or maybe it’s how he spent most of his life when he was younger, but he gets these irresistible urges to clean sometimes and just follows them. Getting every last bit of dust off of something makes him feel satisfied with himself and validated on the inside. He doesn’t see the problem when clean things aren’t bad things. Taemin nods with an understanding noise. His fingers play with the collar of Jonghyun’s shirt, slip inside to play with the chain Jonghyun keeps his wedding ring on, slip back up to rub his shoulders.

“You’re doing really well,” he says, rubbing his thumb gently over a soap bubble on the dash. “Can I wax her?” he asks. Jonghyun nods easily as he goes back to his work with the little sponge, coaxing dirt and grime from he grooves of Taemin’s handle covers. He knows taking care of his bike himself is important to Taemin. It’s important to him, too. He’s gonna clean his own bike when he’s done with this.

“I thought we could go for a ride when we’re done,” he says, smiling up at his babe. “Go get ice cream or something.”

“You mean, like,” Taemin says, and there’s a slow, wide grin growing on his lips. He nudges Jonghyun’s back with his hips and slides his finger purposefully back into Jonghyun’s collar. Jonghyun snorts, giggles, laughs; he forgot about their old little code for sex. Too bad the billboard on the highway got taken down a while ago.

“Grab a chair,” he just says, nudging Taemin with his elbow and nodding to another spinnie chair in the corner. “I’m feeling really gay and I wanna sing a song to you.” He doesn’t remember if he wrote the song specifically for Taemin or not, honestly, but still. Taemin obeys easily, pulling up the chair on the other side of the bike and resting his elbows on the seat. Jonghyun smiles as he rinses his sponge and continues his humming from before, adding the words in on the next verse. He feels happier right now in this moment than he has in a while and he plans to fully enjoy it.

 

5  
Jonghyun is so warm. Warm and cozy and snuggly and comfortable and adorable in Taemin’s arms, between his legs, nestled against his shoulder in the nest of blankets in the bed of their grumbly old truck.

Their bikes are leant next to the truck, sitting quietly in the dirt, resting from the slow roll through the town they took earlier before they came up the winding road to the mountain. Now it’s dark, the only light coming from the moon and stars above them and the truck light behind them and the lamp they have going on the picnic table in front of their tent. It’s calm, peaceful, just the sound of crickets in the distance and wind shuffling the leaves of the trees above them.

Taemin’s heart beats slow and content in his chest as Jonghyun yawns against his skin. He plays with Jonghyun’s left hand, gently pinching the wrinkles, smoothing the skin out, slowly twisting his ring back and forth on his finger, thumb rubbing over the small scratch that showed up at some point over the years. Jonghyun’s finally thinning hair smells nice, like his name brand shampoo and conditioner, and his breaths are warm and even. Taemin squeezes him gently, careful of that one rib he cracked a few years ago, and presses a kiss to the side of his head.

“Thanks for this birthday trip,” he murmurs into the night. “It’s been really fun.” He wasn’t expecting anything big for his big day, but this was a pleasant surprise. He can’t wait to have a campfire breakfast tomorrow. In his arms, Jonghyun giggles quietly.

“I thought we were pretending like it wasn’t your birthday,” he says, nudging Taemin with his elbow. “Because you’re old.” He smiled wider at that word. Taemin could tell. He huffs, pouting on Jonghyun’s head.

“You’re old too,” he grumbles. “Older.” He’s sixty- _seven_. Taemin is only sixty-five.

“Yeah, but I don’t care,” Jonghyun grins. Taemin sighs again. He’s very grumpy always about how Jonghyun has never had an age crisis while he himself has had, like, seven.

“Yeah, well,” Taemin grumbles, and then he softens when Jonghyun’s shoulders shake with silent giggles. “I love you,” is all he says, warm and quiet next to Jonghyun’s ear.

“Oh my god,” Jonghyun says, and puts his face into his hands. “Don’t, you know it still fucks me up when you just. Say it like that, all open and honest and shit.” He whines and wiggles and Taemin laughs. He wishes it weren’t so dark that he couldn’t see the way Jonghyun’s blushing right now.

“My cute little soft buff sweet enby,” he says, just for the way Jonghyun curses and elbows him in the stomach. “I love you,” Taemin says again, and then again when Jonghyun whines louder, and then again and again because it’s the cutest thing in the world to see Jonghyun get all flustered like when they were kids.

Eventually he stops and just smiles against Jonghyun’s hair, letting Jonghyun hold and squeeze his hands grumpily and fondly at the same time. He watches the stars sleepily while Jonghyun presses a kiss to each of his knuckles. Aries isn’t up there, and neither is Cancer, which is weird, considering it’s his birthday month, but he can still point up and pick two stars out and murmur “those are us,” and Jonghyun still giggles and nods.

They sit in silence again after that, comfortable and warm, Jonghyun a little ball of love in his arms. It’s a long, long time that they sit; long enough for Taemin to get a little drowzy. Then, Jonghyun inflates with a big breath and squeezes his hands to get his attention. Taemin squeezes him back, ready to agree that they should probably sleep.

“Hey,” Jonghyun says, and turns a little bit to look at Taemin with a smile. “Wanna blow me?” he asks, and oh. That’s not a smile, that’s a smirk. Taemin snorts into laughter, putting his forehead onto Jonghyun’s shoulder and squeezing his waist. Holy shit. He’d love to, honestly, but this really isn’t the best place, and his neck and upper back have really been hurting, like, always lately. Probably all of that slouching he did when he was younger.

“I’ll jerk you off,” he says. Jonghyun beams and nods immediately, tugging Taemin’s hands happily to his zipper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> #its.... soft nd good  
> #jinki quits the group and works as a hot bartender with hot eunsookie  
> #taem quits just to live with jong full time  
> #but they still go out biking a lot bc taem never stops being restless nd jong is determined to do all the rad adventuring he couldnt before  
> #also jongs ring was on a necklace for a while bc taem couldnt look at it on his hand without blushing  
> #theyre in the store tryna buy cereal nd theyre like fifty and taem just has his face in his hands bc hes Married nd jongs like oh my god  
> #but eventually taems fine with it and just : ))))) and plays with it and flusters jong  
> #and jong always always always gets blushie and flustered no matter how old he gets  
> #taems still a depressed ptsd gremlin nd jongs still a depressed anxiety gremlin but they cope and deal and are happy together  
> #its good  
> #also taem started losing his hair after like 40 nd jongs like idk Maybe if u didnt bleach it constantly for 25 years  
> #and taems like Listen ill take being hot in my youth over being bald now i dont give a shit they make hats for a reason  
> #and jongs like lmao


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